George.
Why has he been searching for this?
A lump rises in my throat. I reach out and touch the screen lightly with two fingers as though I am touching his face.
As though I am asking why he has betrayed me.
Chapter Twenty-One
George
Now
George’s conscience pricks at him. He can’t sleep. Leah was already in bed when he crept through the door at eleven thirty, silent and ashamed. Next to him she breathes slowly and evenly. It’s not her usual sleep pattern; there are no whimpers, no tossing and turning, and he wonders if she’s faking it.
He wonders if everyone is faking something.
This morning, after he had dropped Leah at work following the burning shame of sitting in front of police officers who knew her history, he had gone home and googled. Read the results with a heavy heart. He was so engrossed in the things he had found out, he was running late for his next meeting so on a whim he decided to skip it and instead had called in to Francesca’s clinic. Had sat in her waiting area to catch her between appointments. She was surprised to see him.
‘Sorry, this will only take five minutes,’ he had said apologetically. ‘It’s important.’
She had led him into her office. He didn’t take a seat.
‘I think I should action a Power of Attorney,’ he had blurted out.
Francesca’s face had fallen into shock. ‘What’s brought this on?’
‘Leah’s relapsing. She says she’s going to make an appointment to see you but I don’t think she has?’ George asked.
‘I can’t disclose patient details, George. You know that.’
‘But would you support me? Be prepared to say Leah has diminished mental capacity?’
‘How can I possibly say that? I haven’t assessed her.’
‘But you know her really well. You know us both. You remember what happened the last time?’
‘Of course I do. Who could forget that but—’
‘She’s heading the same way again. I’m sorry to suddenly spring this on you. I’ve only just looked into it and I was passing and… well. Cards on the table. I’m scared. Leah was so close to being sectioned before and where would that have left me, financially? I’d have had to cut down on work to look after Archie and I wouldn’t have been able to access Leah’s royalties or her accounts. Not to mention the fact the house is in her name.’
‘But she wasn’t sectioned,’ Francesca had said. ‘We uncovered the reason behind her behaviour and…’
‘I know.’ George ran his hand over his chin. ‘But I’m beginning to wonder whether she would have been better off… Whether she might be better off…’
‘George, I don’t like where this conversation is going. I can’t condone you considering institutionalizing your wife. Besides, she’s no longer a patient of mine. What you’re asking is unethical and—’
‘Sorry… it’s just the anniversary.’ George felt hot. Too hot. He loosened his tie and undid his top button. ‘It’s Archie I’m thinking of, that’s all.’
‘My next patient is waiting.’ Francesca had said quietly. George had slunk back to his car.
He’s never going to be able to sleep. George thumps his pillow. Leah mutters and rolls over.
He wants to shake her awake. Unburden himself.
‘It’s so hard keeping secrets,’ Tash had tearfully said, earlier.
He reaches for his mobile and texts her.
It’s hard for me too x
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leah
Now
I’m thinking of getting up and making Archie’s breakfast when he bursts into my bedroom and cannonballs himself onto our bed. George heads into the bathroom. The sound of him sliding the bolt across the door is akin to the sound of someone running their fingernails down a blackboard. I don’t know why he’s started locking it. There’s only the three of us in the house. I hear the spurt of water from the shower, the gurgle of the pipes. The quiet tones of his voice; I wonder who he is talking to this early but I don’t think about it for long because Archie says, ‘Mummy! Can I wear my fire engine socks today? I like the blue Power Ranger best. When are we going to have green jelly again?’
‘When am I going to get a good-morning kiss?’ I tickle him in the ribs and he shrieks as he kicks his pyjama-clad legs, his hair tousled with sleep and dreams.
My legs feel leaden as I cross to the door, Archie’s arms wrapped around my neck as I carry him like a baby monkey. I’d tossed and turned much of last night as beside me George had done the same. I’ve almost made my mind up that I won’t go into work today but when I reach the bottom of the stairs there’s another envelope on the mat. I set Archie down. He zooms into the kitchen, his arms stretched sideways as he makes the noise of a plane.
I scoop the letter from the mat. Before I even open it, I know what it’s going to say.
Three days.
I peep out from behind the lounge curtain into the street but it’s empty. Dull. The morning sky grey and bulging with cloud. Suddenly home alone is the last place I want to be. I want Archie to be safe at nursery behind the locked gate and the door with the access code. I want to be in my office among people, outside of this cul de sac, outside of my own head.
My phone rings – Carly’s photo flashes up. It was taken during a picnic at the park with Archie. She’s smiling as she watches him kick a ball. Her skin is tanned – it’s the only time the faint scar on her cheek from the cut she sustained in the van is visible.
‘I’ve got another letter,’ she says as soon as I pick up.
‘Me too.’
‘What should we do?’
‘I don’t see what we can do. If we go back to the police they’ll say it’s some crackpot or journalist again.’
‘Are you going to work?’
‘Yes. Are you okay to collect Archie?’
‘Yes. Leah…’ Her shallow breaths drift down the line. The catch of tears in her voice. ‘We have to stay strong. It will all be over soon.’ She’s a million miles away from the image on my phone of the laughing girl. Almost as though fate cruelly let me glimpse into the life she could have had.
‘Three days,’ I say grimly before I hang up.
Tash is already at her desk. As soon as I settle into my seat she crosses the room. ‘The photocopier is buggered. I’ve rung the repair company and somebody will come out today.’
‘Okay.’ I stifle a yawn.
‘And Janet has called in sick so there aren’t any morning papers.’ Lionel, my boss, still provides a selection of newspapers for his staff. He hasn’t quite grasped yet that we can all read the news online.
‘Did you get another letter?’ She perches on the edge of my desk. I make a mental note to disinfect it again when she stands up.
‘How do you know about the letters?’ I hadn’t spoken to her much yesterday. I hadn’t spoken to anyone much.
‘George told me yesterday.’
‘What else did George tell you?’ I can’t help snapping, recalling the conversation I had overheard. My suspicion he might want to section me.