The Split - Sharon Bolton Page 0,38

are on the edge of the city does Joe speak again. ‘Can you tell me what happened.’

She replies, ‘I don’t know.’

They drive in silence for a little longer then he gives a heavy sigh.

‘I should have made it clearer when you came last week that there are physical causes of memory loss,’ he says. ‘Even if we can rule out a head injury, there are other possible problems.’

She turns to look at his profile. ‘I’ve thought about Alzheimer’s, or a tumour.’

He half smiles, but kindly. ‘You’ve leapt to two of the worst possible scenarios and also the most unlikely. Memory loss can be a result of problems with the thyroid gland, or an infection. It’s even possible, although unlikely, that you had a mild stroke.’

She finds she is comforted, a little, by the possibility of a physical cause to what is happening. Given the choice between cancer and insanity, who wouldn’t choose cancer?

‘The sudden onset of your symptoms suggests a physical cause,’ he says. ‘I can try and speed through the tests tomorrow.’

‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t need directions to her home and she is relieved to see her car in its usual place. He parks and switches off the engine.

‘I’d like to come inside and make sure you’re all right,’ he says. ‘May I?’

She doesn’t feel she can refuse him. It is as though the incident has drained her of confidence. She is not fit to be in control of her own life.

‘What’s the last thing you remember?’ he asks, when they are both in her kitchen.

‘Leaving work and heading into the city to see you,’ she says. ‘I don’t know if I arrived or not.’

‘You didn’t,’ he says. ‘You look cold. Why don’t you get changed? If you don’t mind me helping myself, I’ll put the kettle on and get you something to eat.’

He has taken over and she has no idea how to stop him. She leaves the room and while she is changing into tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt, she hears him moving around in the kitchen. He is whistling softly to himself.

Freddie won’t like this.

Felicity almost cries out. Someone is in the room with her. And yet no one is. She checks quickly in the wardrobe, beneath the bed. She is alone in the room and yet the sense of an invisible presence is so strong she feels she can almost reach out and touch the person who spoke to her.

‘You OK in there?’

This time it is Joe’s voice, and she heads back to the kitchen. He’s found bread and butter, cheese and olives. She grabs the breadknife and cuts a slice, then cheese. She eats like a savage.

‘Sorry,’ she says when the trembling in her limbs is slowing. ‘I was starving.’

‘Ready to talk?’ he asks.

29

Joe

‘Ready to talk?’ Joe asks.

‘Of course.’

‘I’d like to look round your house. Will you show me?’

‘There’s not much to see,’ she says. ‘There’s a basement downstairs, do you want to start there?’

‘Please.’

He follows her down the narrow staircase into a small, tiled room. He hears the gurgling of a central-heating boiler and registers the washing machine and tumble dryer, the ironing board tucked behind a tall cupboard. There is a small pile of ironing in a basket on the worktop. A sizable cupboard beneath the stairs is padlocked shut.

‘What do you keep in here?’

No answer. Joe turns to find Felicity is heading back up the stairs. When he follows her, she is waiting for him on the ground floor by a narrow hall table.

‘Nice polar bear,’ he says, spotting the smooth and stylised statue that she is looking at.

‘I usually keep it upstairs.’ She is frowning, not remembering, or choosing not to acknowledge, their previous conversation about polar bears. ‘But I think I moved it myself the other night. Yes, I did. That was definitely me.’

Brightening, she shows him into the bedroom. The room is simple and neat, with fitted wardrobes. The only furniture apart from the bed are two bedside cabinets. On one is an iPad and a box of tissues. The other is empty.

They climb another set of stairs. As they near the first floor, Joe spots the loft hatch directly above the head of the stairs. She shows him into the living room, striding ahead to rearrange cushions on one of the sofas. He watches as she looks around, as though trying to spot anything out of place, and her eyes rest on the TV set. A red light shines from the bottom right-hand corner. She walks towards it