The Silent Patient - Alex Michaelides Page 0,90

mean Jean-Felix Martin? What about him?”

“Well, he’s been here for hours. He came this morning to visit Alicia. And he’s been waiting since then.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? You mean he’s been here all this time?”

“Sorry, it slipped my mind with everything that happened. He’s in the waiting room.”

“I see. Well, I’d better go and talk to him.”

I hurried downstairs to reception, thinking about what I’d just heard. What was Jean-Felix doing here? I wondered what he wanted; what it meant.

I went into the waiting room and looked around.

But no one was there.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I LEFT THE GROVE and lit a cigarette. I heard a man’s voice calling my name. I looked up, expecting it to be Jean-Felix. But it wasn’t him.

It was Max Berenson. He was getting out of a car and charging toward me.

“What the fuck?” he shouted. “What happened?” Max’s face was bright red, contorted with anger. “They just called and told me about Alicia. What happened to her?”

I took a step backward. “I think you need to calm down, Mr. Berenson.”

“Calm down? My sister-in-law is lying in there in a fucking coma because of your negligence—”

Max’s hand was clenched in a fist. He raised it. I thought he was going to throw a punch at me.

But he was interrupted by Tanya. She hurried over, looking just as angry as he was—but angry with Max, not me. “Stop it, Max! For Christ’s sake. Aren’t things bad enough? It’s not Theo’s fault!”

Max ignored her and turned back to me. His eyes were wild.

“Alicia was in your care,” he shouted. “How did you let it happen? How?”

Max’s eyes filled with angry tears. He was making no attempt to disguise his emotions. He stood there crying. I glanced at Tanya; she obviously knew about his feelings for Alicia. Tanya looked dismayed and drained. Without another word, she turned and went back to their car.

I wanted to get away from Max as fast as possible. I kept walking.

He kept shouting abuse. I thought he was going to follow, but he didn’t—he was rooted to the spot, a broken man, calling after me, yelling piteously:

“I hold you responsible. My poor Alicia, my girl … my poor Alicia … You’ll pay for this! You hear me?”

Max kept on shouting, but I ignored him. Soon his voice faded into silence. I was alone.

I kept walking.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I WALKED BACK TO THE HOUSE where Kathy’s lover lived. I stood there for an hour, watching. Eventually the door opened, and he emerged. I watched him leave. Where was he going? To meet Kathy? I hesitated, but decided not to follow him. Instead I stayed watching the house.

I watched his wife through the windows. As I watched, I felt increasingly sure I had to do something to help her. She was me, and I was her: we were two innocent victims, deceived and betrayed. She believed this man loved her—but he didn’t.

Perhaps I was wrong, assuming she knew nothing about the affair? Perhaps she did know. Perhaps they enjoyed a sexually open relationship and she was equally promiscuous? But somehow I didn’t think so. She looked innocent, as I had once looked. It was my duty to enlighten her. I could reveal the truth about the man she was living with, whose bed she shared. I had no choice. I had to help her.

Over the next few days, I kept returning. One day, she left the house and went for a walk. I followed her, keeping my distance. I was worried she saw me at one point, but even if she did, I was just a stranger to her. For the moment.

I went away and made a couple of purchases. I came back again. I stood across the road, watching the house. I saw her again, standing by the window.

I didn’t have a plan, as such, just a vague, unformed idea of what I needed to accomplish. Rather like an inexperienced artist, I knew the result I wanted—without knowing quite how to achieve it. I waited awhile, then walked up to the house. I tried the gate—it was unlocked. It swung open and I stepped into the garden. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. An illicit thrill at being an intruder on someone else’s property.

Then I saw the back door opening. I looked for somewhere to hide. I noticed the little summerhouse across the grass. I raced silently across the lawn and slipped inside. I stood there for a second, catching my breath. My heart was pounding.

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