The Therapist by B.A. Paris

Thirty-One

Silence shrouds me like a blanket. I sit without moving, trying to work through the emotions that assault me mercilessly, one after the other – disbelief, bewilderment, fear and anger. It’s the cold that finally moves me to my study for a jumper. I can’t find one so I put on my dressing gown, tying it tightly around me.

I haven’t phoned Leo, I couldn’t bring myself to. Again, it’s not a conversation I want to have with him over the phone and he’s in Birmingham until tomorrow evening. I want to talk to someone. Normally, I would have phoned Ginny because she’s nearer and could have come over. But she’s too close to Leo, so I phone Debbie.

‘I’m so sorry, Ali,’ she says, stunned at what I’ve told her. ‘Coming on top of him not telling you about the murder, you must be devastated.’

‘I am,’ I say, brushing away the tears that I haven’t been able to hold back. ‘I feel so lost. I told him everything about me, everything. I didn’t hide anything, I was a hundred per cent honest. That’s what makes it so hard.’

‘I know,’ Debbie says. ‘Why don’t you come and spend a few days here, clear your head a bit?’

‘I’d love to but I need to speak to Leo first. He’s not back in London until tomorrow evening. I was going to ask him to go to Ginny and Mark’s like last week but I’ll get him to come here. He’s going to think I’ve forgiven him for not telling me about Nina.’

‘Would you like me to come to you?’

‘It’s lovely of you to offer but I need to speak to him alone.’

‘Let me know how it goes and if you need anything, just shout.’

‘Thanks, Debbie.’

It takes me a while to call Leo.

‘Alice?’ Once again there’s that hope in his voice, that I’m phoning to ask him to come back.

‘Are you working in London on Friday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you can come home tomorrow evening.’

‘Really? Brilliant. Would you like to go out for dinner?’

‘No, it’s fine. See you tomorrow.’

‘Yes – thanks, Alice.’

In the morning, I find it impossible to concentrate on the translation I’m meant to be doing. My stomach jitters at the thought of seeing Leo this evening. He texts me when he arrives at Euston and suddenly, I’m scared. I have no idea how he’ll react when I tell him that I know who he really is. I don’t think he would harm me but who knows what he’s capable of when he’s already been capable of so much?

I press my face to the window and phone Ginny. I haven’t been out at all today. In the square, a fierce wind whips the fallen leaves into a frenzy. Under the nearest tree, a small child, his little arms outstretched, tries to catch them, and they fall around him like extra-large confetti. His parent is filming the scene on his phone. It’s Tim, I realise, with his youngest son.

‘Hi, Alice,’ Ginny says cheerfully. ‘How are you?’

‘Leo’s arriving any minute now,’ I say, my eyes still on the little boy.

‘Yes, I know, he told me you said he could go back.’

‘Only to talk.’

‘Oh.’

‘I hate to ask but would you mind coming over? It’s just that I might need some back-up.’

‘Is everything alright?’

I turn from the window. ‘No, not really, but I’ll explain when you get here. Could you leave now? It’ll give me time to speak to Leo on his own first.’

‘I hope it’s not what I think it is,’ she adds sadly. ‘I love you both.’

I want to tell her that it’s worse than she could possibly imagine.

Even though I’m expecting him, the sound of his key in the lock makes me jump. There are the usual sounds from the hall; the rustle of his Barbour being shrugged off, then his jacket, the chink of coins as he throws it over the newel post.

‘Alice?’

‘In here.’

He comes into the kitchen. He’s wearing a jumper I’ve never seen before. He’s had his hair cut and the stubble he had five days ago is thicker, almost a beard. It makes him look younger. It makes him a stranger.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘Not great.’

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, like I was last time, when I confronted him about the murder. His passport is balanced on my knees, out of sight.

There’s a scrape as he pulls out the chair opposite me.

‘Has something happened?’

Questions crowd my mind. There’s so much I want to ask him, too much.

‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ I ask, needing him to come clean, because then, there might be hope for us.

‘Apart from being sorry I didn’t tell you about the murder?’

‘Yes, apart from that.’

‘No, I can’t think of anything.’ He rubs his hand over his chin. ‘I mean, I’d like to know how much longer you’re going to hold it against me, because we can’t go on like this.’ He leans forward, his eyes pleading. ‘I love you, Alice. Can’t we put this behind us? I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Can’t that be an end to it?’

‘I’m going to ask you something, and this time I’d like the truth. Do you have a passport?’

He sits back, fake puzzlement on his face. ‘You know I don’t. I told you that.’

I can’t look at him, I can’t believe he’s thrown our relationship away.

‘What about a birth certificate. Have you got one of those?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘I don’t have it here.’

‘Where is it?’

‘It’s in a safe, in the bank.’

The pause was slight, but I noticed it. ‘In a safe? I didn’t know you had a safe.’ He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me mutely. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me who you are?’ I say.

‘What do you mean?’

It goes on a bit too long, the pretence that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Tired of his lies, I take his passport from my knees and lay it on the table.

‘I found this in your filing cabinet.’

The change that comes over him is dramatic. His eyes dart around the room, looking for somewhere to hide and, realising that there’s nowhere to go, because I’m sitting right in front of him, they come to rest on me. The panic I see in them sends waves of adrenalin coursing through my body. For one horrible, frightening moment, I think he’s going to lunge at me across the table.

The silence as we stare at each other becomes unbearable. My heart is racing so fast I think I might never be able to breathe again. Behind me, there’s a tiny drip-drip from the tap in the sink. I focus on it, counting each drop. When I get to ten, I swallow painfully and force words out.

‘Is your real name Leo Carter?’

It’s there in his eyes, the knowledge that he’s cornered. He puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands.

‘Leo.’ His despair makes him oblivious. ‘Leo,’ I say, raising my voice.

He lifts his head. His tear-streaked face is ashen. ‘You must hate me.’

I can’t cope with his pain. I push my chair back and move to the sink, turning the tap so that it no longer drips. ‘I could never hate you,’ I say to his reflection in the window.

He rubs at his face. ‘I shouldn’t have lied to you, I know. But I couldn’t tell you the truth, I was too scared that if I did, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.’

I turn back to him. ‘What is the truth?’

He sighs heavily. ‘When I was young and stupid, I worked for an asset management firm. I allowed myself to be influenced by a couple of guys I worked with and spent a few months in prison for fraud.’

‘How many months?’

‘Four or five.’ I keep my eyes fixed on his face. ‘Maybe a bit more,’ he admits.

‘I looked you up, Leo. I looked up Leo Carter. You spent two years in prison.’

He shakes his head. ‘No. I was released early for good behaviour.’ I don’t say anything. ‘But you’re right, it was more than a year, I’m not sure—’

I walk over to the table, hating that he still hasn’t got it. ‘It doesn’t matter how long you spent in prison, whether it was two months or two years,’ I say. ‘What matters is that you’re still lying to me.’

The desperation on his face is hard to witness. ‘I’ll tell you everything, I promise. That woman, the one who came to Harlestone, I wasn’t lying, she was a journalist. She wanted to write about the irony of someone who was once convicted for fraud advising clients on risk management issues. She kept on asking me and each time, I refused, because I didn’t want you to find out what I’d done.’ New tears fall from his eyes. ‘Don’t you see, Alice? I’ve turned the bad stuff I did into a positive. I’m making amends.’

‘Which is great, Leo,’ I say. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that at heart, you’re dishonest.’ I stop, struggling for the words to tell him why it feels like the ultimate betrayal. ‘What I can’t get my head around is why you didn’t tell me the truth when I told you everything about me. Everything.’

‘But I went to prison!’

‘Exactly. You paid the price for what you did.’ I turn at the sound of a car pulling up outside.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘To open the door. Ginny’s here.’

‘Ginny?’

‘Yes, I asked her to come.’

‘But we haven’t discussed anything yet.’

‘There isn’t anything to discuss.’

‘Alice, please!’

‘I’m sorry, Leo. It’s over.’

I go and open the door. Behind me, I hear Leo sobbing and I hate myself for not being able to comfort him.

‘Is Leo still here?’ Ginny asks anxiously, coming into the hall. ‘Yes.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ll let Leo tell you,’ I say, reaching for my coat. ‘It’s his story, not mine.’ I give Ginny a hug. ‘I’ll call you later.’

In the square I sink onto a bench and let the vicious wind whip tears from my eyes.