The Therapist(87)

For one terrible moment, the world stops moving.

‘Alice?’ Tamsin’s voice comes down the line. ‘Are you there?’

Thomas looks over at me, gives me a smile. It jolts me back to reality.

‘As I said, don’t phone me again,’ I say, cutting the call.

I put my phone in my pocket, wishing I could have told her that Thomas is a private investigator looking into Nina’s murder and that he’s found her killer.

‘I take it her apology wasn’t good enough?’ Thomas says.

I shake my head. ‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘I don’t suppose you managed to find out anything about her therapist?’

‘Only what I told you. But he’s hardly relevant now, as Tim is the culprit.’ I smile at him and he smiles back but Tamsin’s words won’t stop crashing through my brain. Oliver didn’t have a sister.

I take out my phone. ‘I need to tell Leo what time I’m leaving so that he can move back in, he’s been hassling me to let him know. I was going to leave in about an hour but maybe I should wait, in case the police come.’

‘Why don’t you tell him you can’t give him a time, so he’ll have to wait until tomorrow?’

‘Good idea,’ I say, already texting Leo.

Can you find out if Oliver had a sister? It’s urgent, really urgent.

He texts back almost immediately. You told me he did. And how am I meant to find out?

‘I knew he’d moan,’ I say with a rueful smile. ‘He’s not happy about having to wait until tomorrow.’

‘Tell him he doesn’t have a choice.’

‘Alright.’

I don’t know! I text back. Just find out. Please!

I’ll do my best. Btw, I spoke to Ben. He didn’t know the Maxwells. He’s only been with Redwoods two years. Ours was the first house he sold in The Circle.

My heart begins a slow, dull thud in my chest. I look over at Thomas, Tamsin’s voice echoing through my brain.

Why did you never think that he might be Nina’s killer?

‘What did Leo say?’ Thomas asks.

‘That I win,’ I say, putting my phone face down on the table so that he won’t be able to see what Leo says when he texts me back about Oliver having a sister. ‘He’ll wait until tomorrow.’

‘Good.’

He finishes making the coffee and brings it over to where I’m sitting.

‘Did you tell Helen that I’m looking forward to meeting her on Wednesday?’ I ask.

‘I did, and she said to tell you that she’s looking forward to it too.’ He pulls out the chair opposite me. ‘I’ve been thinking – I know it might seem a bit – well, early – but I’d love you to meet my parents at some point. And Louis.’

‘I’d like that,’ I say, lifting my cup to my lips. I try and sort through the thoughts careering through my mind, colliding with each other, cancelling each other out. Thomas had shown me a photo of him and Helen at university together. No, he had shown me a photo of him with a young woman.

‘It will be great if you can tell Helen you’ve found the person responsible for Nina’s murder. If it does turn out to be Tim,’ I say.

‘I’m a hundred per cent sure that it’s him.’

‘What would his motive have been?’ I raise my eyes to his face, a face I’ve come to know well, the green specks in his eyes, the way his hair falls onto his forehead. He looks too kind, he has a son, he has parents, he wants me to meet them. He can’t have murdered Nina, it’s not possible, how would he have even known her? Unless she hired him to investigate Oliver. Or Oliver hired him to investigate Nina, because he suspected her of having an affair. The one thing I do know is that Thomas Grainger is a private investigator, because I checked out the address he gave me. Unless he lied, like Leo did. Maybe his name isn’t Thomas Grainger. Maybe he’s not a private investigator. Maybe he doesn’t have a son, or parents.

‘Who knows?’ he says. ‘Maybe he fell in love with Nina when she and Oliver moved in here. Maybe they had an affair, and when she tried to end it, he killed her.’

Is that what happened, I wonder? Is that his story? Did Thomas, if that is his name, have an affair with Nina? If he did, when and how? How come nobody saw a stranger, coming regularly to the house? But then, Thomas has been visiting me once a week for the last five weeks and nobody saw him coming to the house on any of those occasions, not even Eve, and she lives next door. And I realise – she wouldn’t have seen him because, apart from today, Thomas always comes to see me on Wednesday afternoons, when Eve goes to yoga with Tamsin and Maria. Nina used to go with them but she stopped, because on Wednesdays, she saw her therapist.

And that’s when I know.

He is the therapist.





Past


I know as soon as I arrive that something has changed. The smile she gives me isn’t as wide as it usually is, and doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘Is everything alright?’ I ask, once we’re both sitting down.

‘Not really.’

‘Oh?’

‘Much as I’ve enjoyed our sessions, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to continue with them,’ she says.