her a passport and a birth certificate, or something that looks like them. You’re married and for a while it’s good, but soon you start to notice little things. The way she’ll sometimes sit there without blinking for a little bit too long. The way she wakes up in the morning looking like she’s just stepped out of a salon. The way nothing seems to hurt her, physically at least, and she only eats when you’re watching her. Maybe you’re being paranoid but you start to think that when you’re in bed together she isn’t really asleep. Sure, her eyes are closed but she’s as alert and as active as ever. She starts to scare you.”
Again there was no answer. Again it was all the answer I needed.
“You’ve never told her where your office is because she’s never asked and—no offence Ed—your job doesn’t excite you enough that you’d bring it up. And now you’re relieved because you’re beginning to see work as a refuge. You’re making excuses to stay away from home and when you are home you begin to feel trapped with this strange, perfect creature that only wants to please you. You know it’s ungrateful but you can’t help yourself. That’s when you meet somebody else. Probably on legitimate business, maybe even on a visit to this office, because my guess is that you came here for her.”
There was another long silence, then he took a deep breath. “That’s—some of that was quite spooky.”
I shrugged. “It’s more common than you’d think.”
“I still loved her.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. Unfortunately I wasn’t the one who could forgive him. “But things had started to be so strange. I’d wanted children and she’d said she did too but it was like—like she was going through the motions. And once I’d noticed it about that, I started to notice it about everything else. I began to have strange, impossible ideas, like she was something else pretending to be my wife. I had therapy for a while, but the feeling didn’t go away.”
It wouldn’t have. He’d basically been right. “This is where my job gets complicated. Technically your whole marriage is legally fraud, and you can get gaol time for that, but my client doesn’t care. All she wants is to know what happened to you.”
“I couldn’t tell her,” he said. “I didn’t—I’m not going to say I didn’t want to hurt her, because I know this hurt her more. But I …” He almost seemed to shrink in his seat. He’d hardly touched his beer. “I didn’t know what would happen. I suddenly realised that I’d been married to this—I don’t know. I thought she might have that dark triad thing, you know? It would have explained why she was so charming but also so distant.”
I wanted to hate this guy, but I could see how he’d got there. Being married to a magic sex robot must have been incredible for all of five minutes, then a total mindfuck. “She won’t hurt you,” I said. “You don’t have to go back to her but you need to talk to her. It can be by phone if it’s easier. It might be easier for her as well.” Because she won’t have to pretend to emote. I didn’t say that part out loud.
“And what will you do?”
“I’ll go back to London. I’ll give you until—let’s say—seven to sort this out yourself. Then I have to tell her what I know. I won’t tell her where you are, but I’ll explain why you left. She’ll accept it, but it’ll be a lot worse coming from me.”
He took a long draught of his previously untouched pint. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice. But you’re right. I owe her this.” There was a moment’s silence, then he added. “I’m still paying for the flat, you know.”
“I’d fucking well hope so. If you’d kicked her out on the street this conversation would have ended very differently.”
There wasn’t a lot more to be said. I left him to the other half of his beer and set off for the station. On the way I texted Galatea to let her know she should be expecting a call and that I’d be dropping by later to see how it went. It would have been better to ring her up and actually speak to her, but I wasn’t sure I could face it.