too pessimistic,’ I tell him. ‘We’ll get something out of it. Remember, there are two houses to sell to generate funds.’ Time to be generous. Incentivise him. ‘You can have all of it,’ I say. ‘Everything we’re left with at the end of all this. I meant what I said: I don’t care if I end up poor and homeless.’ A voice in my head – my mother’s, probably – says, It’s all very well saying you don’t care. You should care.
But I don’t.
‘I need to know the truth,’ I tell Kit. ‘I may never find out, but if I do, this is how it’s going to happen. This plan is the beginning of me maybe getting some answers to my questions.’
1.2 million pounds. The most expensive answer in the history of the world.
‘If I say no, you’re going to divorce me, right?’ Kit says.
I nod.
‘What happens to our marriage if I say yes?’
‘That depends. If I find out the truth, and the truth is that you’re not a liar, not a murderer . . .’ I shrug. ‘Maybe we can find a way back, but . . .’ I stop. It’s not fair to offer him false hope, even if it would further my cause. ‘I think our marriage is probably over either way,’ I say.
‘It’s what your average dimwit-on-the-street would call a “no-brainer”.’ Kit’s smile is shaky. ‘If my choice is between definitely losing the woman I love and only probably losing her, I’m going to have to opt for only probably.’ He stands up. ‘I’ll sign anything you want me to sign. Just say the word. You know where to find me.’
Chapter 18
23/7/2010
‘I need you to do something for me.’
‘Hello to you too.’ Charlie made a rude face at the phone. ‘I’m fine, thanks for asking. Where are you?’
‘Get hold of Alice Fancourt, arrange to see her as soon as you can. Alice Bean, sorry – she’s dropped the Fancourt. Find out when she last saw Connie Bowskill and what—’
‘Who-oa, hang on a minute.’ This was the sort of conversation that demanded the accompaniment of a glass of wine: cold, white, bone dry. Charlie hit the pause button on the remote control, hauled herself up off the sofa and pulled the lounge curtains closed, or as near to closed as they’d go. They didn’t quite meet in the middle; she’d made a pig’s ear of hanging them. Liv had said, ‘Take them down and rehang them, then – properly’, but as far as Charlie was concerned, curtains fell into the category of things that only got one chance. So did sisters.
She would never have admitted it to anybody, but she was pleased to be home – queen once more of a small, badly decorated terraced house, no longer an outsider in paradise. ‘Connie Bowskill knows Alice?’ she said, swallowing a yawn.
‘Alice is her homeopath,’ said Simon. ‘I need to know when she last saw her, what Connie said, if she’s got any idea where Connie is now.’
‘At the risk of sounding selfish, what does that list of needs have to do with me? I was watching a DVD.’ So far it was brilliant. Orphan. It featured a psychotic adoptee protagonist called Esther who seemed intent on killing all her siblings. Charlie identified with her hugely, though she suspected that wasn’t the reaction the director had been hoping for.
‘I can’t talk to Alice, can I?’ Simon said impatiently.
‘You both have mouths and ears, last time I checked. You mean you don’t want to talk to her.’ Charlie poured herself a glass of wine, glad he wasn’t there in person to see her smile. The smile faded as it occurred to her that his not wanting to speak to Alice could be interpreted in a range of ways: dislike, embarrassment, an aversion to revisiting the past. Any of those would be okay, Charlie thought, putting the wine back in the fridge. Searing unrequited love – the kind that knows it would be magnified to greater agony by confrontation with its object. No. Ridiculous. It was clear from his tone that Alice was a means to an end. Connie Bowskill was the one he was interested in now. And no, Charlie told herself firmly – not in that way.
‘I don’t want to talk to Alice, no,’ said Simon.
Neither did Charlie, but she knew what would happen if she refused: he would overcome his reluctance and do what he had to do to get the information he wanted. This was her