The Split - Sharon Bolton Page 0,77

and her skin is dry and grey. Her pink hair needs combing and he can see an inch of dark roots. She is wearing loose, pull-on trousers and a stained T-shirt.

‘Seriously, have you lost your fucking mind?’ she snaps at him. ‘She is your patient.’

‘Not any more.’ Joe clips his seat belt and realises there are still two buttons of his shirt unfastened. He will not touch them in front of his mother. ‘Seeing as how you’re here, Mum, you might as well drive me home.’ He glances up to the upper windows of Felicity’s house. If she is watching him he can’t see her.

His mother bangs both hands down on the steering wheel in temper. ‘What the hell were you thinking? After Ezzy Sheeran? After Bella Barnes? Joe, you could be struck off.’

‘Nothing happened.’ As he speaks, he realises something major has happened. With Ezzy and Bella he, technically, stayed on the right side of professional conduct. With Felicity, he has crossed a line.

Delilah starts the engine and pulls away at speed. She drives quickly and recklessly through the emptying streets. No, he hasn’t crossed a line, Felicity pulled him over it. And he let her. Remembering the random thought that sprang into his head as they kissed – This isn’t Felicity – he realises how little he knows of her.

‘Have you been following me?’ he asks, when they turn into his street.

‘No. But we are monitoring her. We picked her up on CCTV an hour ago and you were recognised. The team let me know as a favour.’

‘And you thought you’d save me from myself?’

His anger is fading. His mother has probably done him a huge service. Had she arrived ten minutes sooner, his professional integrity might still be intact.

‘She’s leaving town,’ he says.

‘Good.’

Silence in the car.

‘Soon?’ Delilah says hopefully.

He shrugs. He doesn’t know. Felicity has no plans to see him again. Her attempt at seduction had been entirely manipulative. Now, if he raises concerns about her mental health with her new GP, she will claim, with some truth, that the two of them have an intimate relationship. On top of the accusations he faced over the Ezzy Sheeran case, not to mention the suspicion that Bella Barnes, as well, got too close, it could end his career.

Three times now, he has allowed himself to be compromised by vulnerable and – might as well face it – attractive young women. His judgement has been seriously at fault.

Delilah pulls up outside his house and they sit in silence. Joe wishes he was twelve again, because when he was twelve there were no problems his mum couldn’t fix.

‘Thanks,’ he says, in a small voice.

He feels her hand cover his.

‘There’s something wrong,’ he says. ‘More than her health problems. She’s just admitted to being married and I think she’s genuinely afraid of her husband.’

‘Name?’ Delilah has switched instantly to police mode.

‘Frederick Lloyd, I assume. She calls him Freddie.’

Joe feels a pang of conscience as he speaks, and wonders if he is choosing to blame Freddie for Felicity’s problems because it lessens his own failure to diagnose her properly.

‘She told me she saw him in Heffers last night,’ he continues. ‘I think he’s here, in the city. I think she’s terrified of him for some reason she can’t or won’t admit to, and I think she’s prepared to travel to the other side of the planet to get away from him.’

‘Lots of women never report their abusive partners,’ Delilah says. ‘Even very smart ones.’

Joe knows this. He’s met several before now.

‘I’ll make some enquiries,’ she tells him. ‘Now, get some rest. I’ll wait till I see you in the window.’

He opens the passenger door and then bends low to say good night. ‘When do I start looking after you?’ he says.

57

Felicity

He’s here.

Felicity starts awake to find her bedroom unusually dark. No light at all seems to be coming in from outside. She lies motionless, hot and damp between the bedsheets, her heart hammering. In the distance, she can hear a dog barking, and also the gentle roar of traffic. A subdued groan sounds from the hot-water system and music at a low volume is coming from one of the neighbouring houses. A minute goes by, and another. She tells herself that there is nothing to be afraid of.

Her skin prickles. Her beating heart will not listen to her. She eases herself up and turns her pillow. The reverse side is pleasantly cool and she pushes the duvet away from her shoulders. Her