About an hour later, Nick came home. Flopping down on a chair, he launched into a diatribe about his day and the incompetence of the bursar. Finally he asked me how my day had gone.
‘It was fine,’ I replied.
‘What have you been up to?’
‘Oh, not a lot,’ I lied. ‘I did some clearing up around the house, odd chores here and there, nothing very interesting. And I did some shopping, again nothing much, a few bits and pieces for myself.’
‘Good,’ he replied. ‘I’m glad you went out.’ He hesitated. ‘Did you go into school at all?’
‘No, I had every intention of going in, but somehow I didn’t have time.’ I laughed. ‘I’ll go tomorrow, I promise. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with Angela. It’s time I started to play tennis again. And, of course, Julie needs support. I want to go and see her and find out what I can do to help.’
And after a little more desultory conversation, we went to bed as though nothing much had really happened that day. And in a way, I suppose, it hadn’t, if every action were judged only by its outcome.
Chapter 33
The next day there was a ring at the front door. I recognised Detective Sergeant Hilary Woods at once, although her appearance was altered. Her hair was arranged differently and she was wearing lipstick.
‘What is it now?’ I asked, struggling to quell my alarm. ‘Haven’t you seen enough of me?’
‘Shall we go inside and talk?’
‘This isn’t a good time. My husband’s at work and I’m busy.’
I saw her smile, her face transformed by that minuscule movement of her muscles. No longer hostile, she turned into a potential ally. We not only tell lies to others as well as to ourselves, we are all chameleons displaying changing faces to the world around us. But some of us are more skilful at camouflage than others.
‘You’re the one I want to speak to,’ she said.
She smiled again, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. In spite of the fact that I warmed to her, I remained wary, telling myself the inspector must have sent her to play the good cop and lure me into letting my guard down. They hoped she would persuade me to confess, woman to woman, ostensibly in confidence.
‘Why would you want to speak to me?’ I asked, without budging from the doorway. ‘The inspector sent you, didn’t he?’
Her smile faltered as she shook her head. ‘I can see why you might think that but, actually, this is my day off. I’m not on duty. I’ve come here of my own accord, and in my own time.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m curious.’
‘I don’t understand. What are you doing here?’
‘Please, can we go inside and talk.’ She took a step closer. ‘There’s a chance I may be able to help you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Why should I trust you?’
‘No reason. And if you don’t like what I have to say, that’s up to you. I can go away and you can forget all about my visit. But something about this doesn’t make sense.’
Either the police had discovered my lies about my visit to Sue’s house on the day she died, or Rosie had found out about my break-in and reported it to the police. I tensed, expecting the worst.
‘I don’t want to talk to you without a lawyer.’
The sergeant let out a sigh of exasperation and spoke rapidly, in a low voice. ‘I was in the room when you raised the possibility that Rosie White might have stored the missing photos on another phone. I’m talking about the photos you allege she showed you before Sue’s death.’
This was a surprise.
‘Are you saying you believe me? Because the inspector obviously didn’t.’
‘Shall we go inside and talk?’
Without another word, I led the sergeant into the living room. Sitting on comfortable armchairs, we faced one another.
‘So, do you believe me about the photos?’ I asked.
‘To be honest, I’m not sure what to believe. But the DI agreed to my following up your suggestion and I did discover a couple of interesting things. First off, Rosie bought a second-hand smartphone seven weeks ago, although she already had two, one for work and one for personal use. This third one was purchased under a different name, although it was paid for out of Rosie’s own personal account, and she made no mention of it when we spoke to her. The name she used when she bought it was Philip White, which is her brother’s name, but my tentative enquiries led to me to believe he knows nothing about it.’
‘Tentative enquiries? What do you mean?’
She looked faintly annoyed at the interruption. The mobility of her face both surprised and heartened me, leading me to believe she was dealing honestly with me. But I remained wary.
‘We didn’t want Philip White to suspect there was anything going on, in case he alerted his sister to the fact that we were investigating her phone, so we just asked him whether he had recently purchased a Samsung phone.’
She hesitated, before adding that Philip White had been unaware that he was talking to the police. He had been led to believe he was speaking to a telephone salesman.
‘And he told you that he hadn’t recently bought a phone?’ I finished the train of thought.
‘Exactly!’
‘Doesn’t that confirm what I told you? And what was the other thing? You said there were a couple of things that you found interesting.’
‘A week after it was purchased, the credit ran out on the phone Rosie purchased in her brother’s name and nothing has been added to the account since then.’
‘So the line has been discontinued?’
‘Not exactly, but if the phone isn’t used for six months, the line will automatically be cancelled. She could top up at any time before then, but she hasn’t used it for two weeks, not since she called the phone company to report the phone stolen.’
‘Stolen?’
‘Yes. She reported it stolen and the phone company told her that since there’s no credit on the line and the handset was second hand and there’s no evidence she even made the purchase, there’s no further action to be taken.’
I sat forward. ‘What do you think happened to the phone?’
‘She reported it to the phone company as lost or stolen,’ the sergeant replied, her expression blank.
I nodded. ‘Yes, so you said, but what if she didn’t lose it? And why did she buy another one in the first place? That sounds suspicious, doesn’t it?’
The sergeant shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. People sometimes want another phone for its different features. The screen was larger, for example.’
‘Easier for displaying images,’ I muttered. ‘It all makes sense.’
‘She already had the use of a phone for her paper, plus her existing personal one, so she purchased a reconditioned handset, which she claims to have lost a month after she bought it. She discovered she couldn’t make an insurance claim on the second-hand phone, so she gave it up as a bad job and stuck with the one she already had. It’s all perfectly plausible, but–’
‘But it does mean it’s possible she used a third phone to take photos of Nick and Sue deliberately to mock up fakes, all of which she could have done without using her work or her personal one.’
‘Yes, it’s possible.’
‘And in her work she would have had access to all the software needed to photoshop and alter and create images.’
‘This doesn’t prove she did anything of the kind,’ the sergeant said.
‘But it does mean it’s possible.’
We stared at one another for a second.
‘It’s possible,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Tell me what you know about Rosie.’
I hesitated. ‘Why should I speak to you and not the inspector?’
‘Because I’m here,’ she replied simply. ‘We could do this at the police station if you prefer, but we thought it might be easier to talk to you here. So, tell me about Rosie,’ she repeated. ‘Tell me everything you know about he
r.’
In as much detail as possible, I told her all about my interview with Rosie and our encounter the following day where she had told me about the love letter she claimed to have seen in Nick’s desk, and our subsequent meeting where she had shown me the photos.
When I finished, the sergeant grunted. ‘Can you remember what make of phone she used?’
‘No. I was so focused on the images, and so shocked, I didn’t notice anything else.’
The sergeant had admitted my story was possible. Strange and unsettling though the truth might be, it was preferable to thinking I was crazy enough to have imagined everything Rosie had shown me.
Chapter 34
Nick had arranged for me to see a second psychiatrist, even though I assured him there was no need to consult anyone else. In my opinion, Dr Scott’s report had been thorough enough. The truth was, I had gone down the route of doubting my own sanity once before, and wasn’t prepared to revisit that dark place. Even so, I agreed to attend the appointment to humour Nick.
This time we travelled to a different area of London, somewhere near Soho. Neither of us knew exactly where we were going. Nick was following the directions on his phone and we got lost several times as we trudged along streets devoid of road signs, accosting tourists who were barely able to understand English, let alone to confirm our exact location.
‘Where the hell are we?’ Nick asked, red-faced and unusually irascible.
It was early afternoon on a hot day in mid-July and we were both sweaty and thirsty, having drained the small water bottles I had brought with us for the journey. I held back from complaining that this was an unnecessary waste of time and money, having already made the point at some length on our train journey, no doubt increasing Nick’s exasperation.
‘Perhaps we should take a taxi,’ he suggested at last, scowling with frustration.
‘And waste even more money on this pointless excursion,’ I muttered.
Finally we arrived at our destination, a four-storey white block that must once have been elegant, but looked grubby and slightly neglected. Although the exterior of the building had seen better days, the interior was decidedly upmarket, the wallpaper smart and tasteful, the furniture solid wood, with a dusky blue carpet and matching drapes at the windows. No expense had been spared on the decor and furnishings.
Unlike Dr Scott, this psychiatrist matched my preconceptions, and the visit felt more like an interrogation than a consultation. White-haired, sharp-eyed, wearing a worn grey suit and a bright red cravat, the psychiatrist gestured at me to recline on a leather sofa. It was not very comfortable, but I obliged without demur. Seated just out of my line of vision, he set about questioning me.
Before Nick and I left the consulting rooms, the psychiatrist offered to share his findings verbally.
‘I’ll be sending you a full written report in due course,’ he said, ‘but you might like to hear a brief summary straight away.’
I nodded nervously, regretting having agreed to attend his clinic. My mouth felt dry and I could feel my head spinning with the stress of waiting to hear whether he judged me to be sane or not. My anxiety was misplaced because his conclusions were more or less the same as the earlier report from Dr Scott.
‘So you don’t think I’m suffering from delusions,’ I said.
The doctor gave me a genial smile. ‘Oh, we probably all suffer from delusions, to a greater or lesser extent, wouldn’t you say? Who can look at himself in the mirror and accept the truth? But as for your question, Mr Kelly,’ he went on, turning to my husband, ‘on the basis of this one consultation, I can’t say I’ve found any evidence that your wife may be suffering from any psychosis.’
‘So I’m not crazy,’ I said.
He chortled. ‘No more than the rest of us, which admittedly may not be saying very much. Humankind cannot bear very much reality, as the poet said.’
‘T.S. Eliot,’ I murmured.
‘Indeed.’ The psychiatrist inclined his head.
‘Yes, yes, we know,’ Nick interrupted, a touch of irritation in his voice, ‘no one likes to face reality.’
‘Especially the reality pertaining to oneself,’ the psychiatrist replied genially enough, but giving Nick a shrewd glance as he spoke.
I could have kissed the man.
Despite my elation, I was pleased to walk out of the building and, as the train carried us home, I asked Nick if we could agree to stop the psychiatric assessments which were proving a pointless waste of time. He nodded and smiled, taking my hand. And, just like that, we seemed to have come through the horrible aftermath of Sue’s death. Somehow it no longer mattered whether Nick had been having an affair with her or not. I was tired, and just wanted us to get back to normal.
We went out for a quiet pizza, and I certainly drank more than was sensible. Nick was more restrained as he was going to drive us the few miles home, but he was clearly over the limit.
‘If we’re stopped, you could lose your licence.’ I giggled.
‘We’d better make sure we’re not stopped then.’
He drove back along quiet country lanes, confident that his position would protect him. I wondered if he was right. These days, nothing seemed certain, and I was afraid his confidence would one day prove his undoing.
‘We’re living on shifting sands,’ I said.
‘Everything’s going to be all right from now on,’ he assured me, not really taking in what I was saying.
‘Let’s go away for a few weeks,’ I suggested.
‘You know I can’t for a while.’
I had forgotten he was going off to attend a headmaster’s training course at the weekend.
‘Why don’t you go and see Jen while I’m gone?’ he added. ‘She’ll be back from Wales at the weekend.’
‘Maybe. I’ll think about it. I don’t mind spending time at home and you’ll only be gone for two nights. Angela’s around, and I want to pick up where I left off and get back to how things were before– before all this.’
‘Yes, it’s important to carry on as though nothing happened. Apart from Sue’s death, of course.’ He sighed.
Although we might forget briefly, we were nowhere near returning to the life we had known before Sue’s death. We weren’t even close to it. Nick was probably thinking the same as me, and we drove the rest of the way home in silence.
That night, when we went to bed, we had sex for the first time since recent events had shattered our equilibrium, forcing us apart. But as I closed my eyes, I saw the picture of Nick lying with Sue, and imagined their naked bodies moving in harmony, as ours were. Once I had thought of it, I couldn’t banish the image from my mind. I wanted to yell in his ear, asking him if he had ever had sex on a flowery chintz bed cover, and whether he still thought about her. Perhaps she was in his mind while he was with me. ‘Was she tender? or passionate?’ I was tempted to ask. ‘Did she make any sound while you were screwing her?’
But of course I didn’t. Whatever had happened between Nick and Sue, we needed to focus on the future and find a way of moving forward until we found our way back to our shared past. So I said nothing. Some things are better left unsaid.
If only it had been as easy to silence the voice in my head.
Chapter 35
True to my word, the next morning I went to the school office to speak to Julie. If she was surprised to see me, she did not show it. Perhaps Nick had forewarned her to expect me. In any event, she paused in her typing to give me a taut smile, pushing her curly hair off her face with an impatient gesture.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Louise, really it is,’ she said, her enthusiasm just a tad overdone. ‘I’d love to stop and chat but I’m up to my ears at the moment and I need to crack on.’
I interrupted her. ‘Nick told me you’re a bit overrun at the moment.’
‘You could say that.’
‘So I wanted to see if there was anything I could do.’
Realising this was an offer of help rather than an unwelcome so
cial call, Julie’s expression lightened. ‘That would be brilliant! We could certainly do with another pair of hands around here.’
All signs of irritation gone, she gazed up at me, her eyes narrowed in shrewd calculation. ‘How much time can you spare?’
‘I’m free all day.’
‘I tell you what, you could start by entering these details – you do know how to use the database, don’t you? Obviously you know your way around the system–’ She broke off, flustered by her unintended gaffe.
This was exactly the kind of comment Nick had been worried about, but I was more mentally robust than he gave me credit for.
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ I replied easily, ignoring her discomfort. ‘Can you do the first one or two, just to make sure I understand exactly what needs to be done.’
I spent the rest of the morning working on data entry. The task was mind-numbingly boring, but it was essential to the smooth running of the school that we had a complete profile of all new pupils entered on the system, along with the appropriate security filters so that teaching staff could access the information at one level, the accounts department another, while the medical staff needed yet another area of access. Julie was grateful for my help, even more so when I offered to return the following day and put in another session. ‘A few more days like today, and the job will be finished. I can’t tell you how grateful I am,’ she said. ‘You’ve been a real help.’
I smiled. ‘We’re all on the same team.’
At one o’clock, Julie and I went across to the school dining room where a light buffet lunch was provided for staff who lived on site. In the evenings, an early supper was on offer for those who signed up for it before midday. Like Nick and I, most of the staff who were still around ate at home in the evenings if they weren’t going out, but at lunchtime the dining room was quite busy, even in the holidays.
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