way home. He was very unwell at the time and fairly incoherent and all he kept saying was he knew what had happened. The police wanted to check that what he reported couldn’t have happened elsewhere. They didn’t seem worried about the old notes being missing.’
‘Are the police sure Nancy isn’t real?’ I ask for added clarification.
‘Nobody who knows Clive knows anything about her. They’ve gone through what they’ve investigated with me and I’m afraid she is a figment of his imagination.’ George takes a gulp of his Diet Coke. ‘They’ve been really thorough, as you know. They checked and there’s no record of Clive having ever been married. As far as they’re aware, Nancy never existed and she certainly hasn’t been recently murdered at Clive’s property.’
Tess flops back. ‘What a horrid nightmare to have.’
‘It’s not made up,’ I say. ‘It’s as real to Clive as if it actually happened. That’s why he fears returning home so badly.’
‘It’s a horrible thing for his imagination to present him with. Like I said, the police have been very good and taken those concerns seriously, but it’s not unearthed anything.’
‘Poor Clive,’ I say.
‘Now we just need to work out what he wants to do with the house. I’ll talk to him about it this afternoon when I visit the flats with him. If he gives the okay, between us we can get it on the market.’
‘Saying goodbye to the memory that never was,’ Tess says, wistfully.
32
Clive
Like every morning these days, Clive started it with his beetroot juice. At first the earthy taste hadn’t been to his liking. He much preferred to start the morning with a hot cup of English breakfast tea, but now he was a couple of weeks in, he was getting used to the rustic taste. Although, to be fair, it might be the fact he knocked it back like it was tequila that was helping. As always, he jotted down the details for Keisha. They were pretty much the same details on repeat: the batch number, the amount, the time of day. But she’d need this record for her study. The juice set him up for the day at least and he was feeling a lot more optimistic than he had been recently by the time George arrived to take him for a viewing.
‘This is very kind of you. Especially on your day off,’ Clive said.
‘It’s no problem. I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to do it sooner.’
George held the car door open for Clive to get in and again for him to get out once they’d arrived at the flats. The new complex was a stone’s throw from the allotments. They’d been built on the old grounds of a private school that had sold off some of the land.
Clive was going to enjoy getting a peek inside the flat complex. He’d watched it go up as he dug up carrots and potatoes on the other side of the road. At least it wouldn’t leave him far away from where he wanted to be. Although he wasn’t really sure where that was any more. He felt as if his anchor had been cut off and now he was in the midst of grabbling to find something to cling on to.
‘I think we need to head to the show flat. The estate agent said he’d meet us there and then take us round. What are your first impressions?’ asked George.
‘It’s an upgrade from my current living quarters.’ Clive smiled, but it fell short of reaching his eyes.
‘Has it been hard staying there?’ George asked, as they made their way to a central building that had red flags advertising new homes for sale.
‘Quite the contrary. It’s been a delight. I think I’m going to rather miss it.’
‘Is the lab turning out to be more entertaining than the allotment?’
‘In its own way, yes. My tea-making abilities have never been so appreciated.’
‘I’m sure they’d still engage your services as a tea-maker if you offer.’
‘Do you think they would?’
‘You’ll never know unless you ask.’
Clive hadn’t considered the possibility of staying on. The thought gave him the real smile he’d been after. They entered the sales room, but there was no one there waiting to greet them.
‘Do you think you’ll miss your old house?’ said George.
Clive replied with a blank expression, his smile fading. ‘I don’t think I will. My memories of my home life are rather muddled since, well, you know. My overriding recollection is of something that didn’t happen there. I don’t feel