Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(45)

‘No, Finn,’ he says, looking back at me steadily, realising maybe how important his answer is. ‘Lovely though she is, I am not in love with Ellen, nor have I ever been.’ He gives a short laugh. ‘You must have realised by now that we don’t have the same taste in women? All those girlfriends you had in London, they weren’t your type. Think about it, Finn – they were all carbon copies of mine because you thought they were the sort of girls you should be going out with. But you were never very interested in them. Then you met Layla, as different from those girls as chalk is from cheese. And as you realised quite early on, I couldn’t see what you saw in her.’ He pauses a moment and I wonder what he would say if I told him that only a few days ago, I’d questioned if he was the man Layla had slept with in London. ‘But here’s the thing,’ he goes on. ‘I’ve never experienced true love, I’m not sure it even exists. But if it does, it was what you and Layla had.’

I wait, giving him time to add ‘and what you and Ellen have’ but he doesn’t. The silence stretches out between us. He’s waiting for me to say something and when I don’t, he takes pity on me.

‘Why did you think I was in love with Ellen?’

I can’t tell him that, in a moment of madness, I suspected he was sending me emails and planting Russian dolls, pretending to be Layla so that I wouldn’t marry Ellen.

‘Someone’s messing with my head,’ I say instead.

‘Layla?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Ellen told me she got a Russian doll in the post and that even though it would seem to confirm that Layla is back, you’re reluctant to go to the police.’

‘We agreed to give her a few days.’ I decide to open up to him. ‘I’ve found a couple of dolls that I haven’t told Ellen about.’

‘Right.’ He nods thoughtfully. ‘Where did you find them?’

‘One was outside the house, one on the car, in Cheltenham.’ I don’t mention the others because the list is getting too long. ‘The latest one came through the post. It was postmarked Cheltenham – its head was smashed in,’ I add.

‘They’re not very careful at the post office,’ he says. ‘Probably the franking machine.’

It never occurred to me that it could be anything but deliberate. Have I been sending myself to hell and back for nothing?

‘I wondered if it was damaged on purpose.’

He frowns. ‘What, you think there was some kind of message behind it? A threat, or something?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Boy, Layla must be really angry that you’re with Ellen.’

‘So you think the dolls are definitely from Layla?’

‘Who else could they be from? But she must be seriously disturbed. I mean, to go as far as wishing you actual harm – that’s kind of worrying.’

For a wonderful moment, I feel better – the doll with the smashed head represents me, not Ellen. But then I remember the get rid of Ellen message.

‘You need to tell the police,’ Harry goes on. You look dreadful, so does Ellen. She’s worried about you.’ He pauses. ‘And she’s worried about what will happen when Layla turns up.’

‘I’ve told her it won’t change anything,’ I say curtly, annoyed with Ellen for not only doubting me, but for telling Harry that she does.

‘Well, maybe the way you are at the moment isn’t filling her with confidence.’

I shift uneasily on my chair. Has she somehow sensed the dark thoughts I’ve had about killing her? I run my hands through my hair, haunted by the nightmares I’ve been having. Harry claps me on the back. ‘Come on, let’s go and see Ruby.’

Ellen encourages us to go to The Jackdaw on our own but Harry persuades her to come with us. Ruby is delighted to see Harry and we arrange to have a late lunch, once the rush is over, so that she can join us. The four of us sit with a couple of bottles of wine, laughing and talking, and I feel better than I have for a long time. I catch Ellen throwing me anxious glances and, understanding that she’s worried I’m annoyed with her for inviting Harry down to talk to me, I reach for her hand across the table. Harry notices, and when it’s time to leave, he says he wants to stay and talk to Ruby for a bit, giving me and Ellen a chance to be on our own.

‘You didn’t mind me inviting Harry?’ Ellen asks, as we stroll back to the house.

‘No, it was good to talk to him. He made me see things more clearly.’ And at least I can eliminate him from my list of suspects, I think silently. Which only leaves Ruby and Layla and I’m pretty sure that Ruby isn’t involved. The relief I feel, that it must be Layla, tells me that the darkness I’ve felt over the past few days wasn’t only about not knowing who I could trust, but from the fear she hadn’t come back after all.

‘So will you phone Tony?’

‘Yes,’ I say, realising that was her aim in getting Harry down. ‘I’ll give him a ring on Monday.’

Harry doesn’t stay long when he comes back to the house because he has a dinner in London. After he’s left, I spend a bit of time in my office. I still haven’t received an email from Layla. Is she seriously waiting for me to harm Ellen, to kill her? I slide open my drawer and reach inside, searching for the Russian dolls. I run my fingers over them, drawing a strange comfort from the feel of them. It’s almost as if they’re telling me not to lose faith, that everything will work out in the end. Then my fingers fall on the one with the smashed head and I withdraw my hand quickly. It’s strange that Ellen never asked me for the one she saw me with in The Jackdaw, has never asked if she can add it to her set of Russian dolls, like the one she received in the post. It stands next to the one she found on the wall, two twin sisters staring blank-eyed at me from the worktop.