Nicci French: Tuesday's Gone

‘And?’

‘I just wanted him cured.’ For a moment her voice wavered. ‘He was ill and I just wanted him to get better. That’s what you were for. Is that what you mean by cured? You find yourself and leave your wife.’

‘What?’

‘You changed him.’

‘Carrie, stop a moment. Are you telling me that Alan left you?’

‘Didn’t you know?’

‘No. I haven’t seen or talked to Alan since the December before last, when his brother was found dead.’

‘Well. Now you know.’

‘When did he leave?’

‘When?’ Carrie lifted her head. Her eyes met Frieda’s. ‘Christmas Day, that’s when.’

‘That’s hard,’ said Frieda, softly. She was beginning to understand why Carrie had complained. ‘So it’s been just over a month.’

‘Not this Christmas. Last Christmas.’

‘Oh,’ said Frieda. For a moment, the room around her seemed to lose its definite shape. ‘You mean straight after his brother killed himself?’

‘As if he was just waiting. You really didn’t know? I assumed he’d talked to you – I assumed you’d encouraged him.’

‘Why did he go?’

‘Because he felt better. He didn’t need me any more. He’s always needed me. I looked after him. But after you’d got to him, he was different.’

‘Is that what he said?’

‘Not in so many words. But that was how he behaved. For a few days after Dean killed himself, he was – I can’t describe it. He was cheerful, full of energy, decisive. It was the best few days of my life. That was what made it so hard. I thought everything was going to be all right. I’d been so scared for so long, and suddenly there he was, the old Alan. Or, rather, a new Alan. And he was so – so affectionate. I was happy.’

She turned her head so that Frieda wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes, and sniffed angrily.

‘He must have given some explanation.’

‘No. He just said it had been good but now it was over. When I think of what I gave up for him, how I looked after him, how I made him safe in the world … I loved him and I knew he loved me. Whatever else happened, we had each other. Then he just left without a backward glance – and what have I got now? He took everything – my love, my trust, my child-bearing years. And I’ll never forgive you for that. Never.’

Frieda nodded. Her anger with Carrie had long gone.

‘You know, Alan went through a terrible trauma,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he just couldn’t bear to be in his old life for a bit, so he ran away from it, but it doesn’t mean it’s permanent. The important thing is to keep communicating with him, keep doors open.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that?’

‘Won’t he talk to you?’

‘He’s gone. Disappeared.’

Frieda felt suddenly cold in spite of the radiator blasting out heat beside her. She spoke slowly and carefully. ‘Do you mean you don’t even know where he is?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘He didn’t leave a forwarding address?’

‘He just walked out with a few clothes and that bag of tools his psychopath brother left him just before he killed himself. Oh, and almost all of the money in his bank account. I opened his statements. I’ve tried to find him but he obviously doesn’t want to be found.’

‘I see,’ said Frieda.

‘So that’s why I made a complaint. You stole my life from me. You might have found that little boy, and rescued Dean’s wife, who didn’t seem to want rescuing, but you lost my Alan.’

Carrie stood up and buttoned her jacket; a skin was forming on the surface of her untouched coffee. Frieda watched her as she left but didn’t move for several minutes. She sat quite still, her hands on the table in front of her, her face without expression.

As Frieda walked away from the Institute she was thinking so hard that she scarcely knew where she was. When she felt a nudge on her shoulder, she thought she had bumped into someone.

‘Sorry,’ she began, and then gave a start. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Karlsson laughed, feeling his grim mood lift at the sight of her grumpy face. ‘It’s good to see you too, after all these months,’ he said. ‘I came to find you.’

‘This isn’t a good time,’ said Frieda.

‘I can imagine,’ said Karlsson. ‘I saw Carrie Dekker leave a few minutes before you came out.’

‘But why are you here at all?’

‘Charming. After all we went through together.’

‘Karlsson,’ Frieda said warningly. He had never persuaded her to call him by his first name.

‘I had trouble reaching you. Why don’t you ever switch your mobile on?’

‘I only check it about once a week.’

‘At least you got round to buying one. I talked to your friend, Paz, up at the clinic. She told me what was up. Why didn’t you call me?’ He looked around. ‘Can we go for a coffee somewhere?’

‘I was just in the canteen with Carrie. Alan’s left her. Did you know that?’

‘No,’ said Karlsson. ‘I didn’t stay in touch.’

‘And when I say “left”, I mean really left. He’s just gone. Don’t you think that’s strange, for someone who was so utterly dependent on her, and adoring?’

‘He’d been under a lot of pressure. Sometimes people just need to escape.’ He gave a small wince that Frieda noticed, as she took in the new lines in his thin face, the silver threads flecking his dark hair, and the patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving.

She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t feel right. Something’s happened.’

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ he said.

‘Which one?’

‘The one about why you didn’t call me about the hearing. I’d like to have helped. You got a kidnapped child back. You got kidnapped children back. The idea that you should be hauled in front of some jobsworth is fucking ridiculous.’

Frieda looked at Karlsson with the sharp expression that always made him feel wary. ‘It’s not ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to answer for what I do and Alan is free to complain about me.’

‘I’d have spoken up for you,’ said Karlsson. ‘So would the police commissioner. I could probably have got the home secretary.’

‘That’s not the issue. The question was whether I betrayed my duty to my patient.’

‘Which you didn’t.’

‘I had different duties,’ Frieda said. ‘I tried to balance them. I’d like to talk to Alan about it but it looks like that won’t be happening.’

Karlsson started to speak but gave up. ‘As it happens, this isn’t really what I was here about. Look, if you don’t want a coffee, can we go for a walk? You like walking, don’t you?’

‘Don’t you have a car?’

‘With a driver,’ said Karlsson. ‘We can walk and then he can pick me up.’

Frieda’s expression turned suspicious. ‘This isn’t something to do with work, is it?’

‘It’s nothing big,’ said Karlsson, hastily. ‘It’s something I thought might intrigue you. Professionally. You’d be paid for your time. There’s someone I’d like you to have a word with. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Have a chat with her, tell me what you think. That’s all.’

‘Who is she?’

‘Which way?’ said Karlsson.

Frieda pointed behind him. ‘Through Primrose Hill.’

‘All right. Just give me a moment.’

After he’d given instructions to the driver, Karlsson and Frieda walked along the street and turned into a cul-de-sac that ended at the park. In silence they walked up a hill, then looked down at the zoo and the city beyond it. It was a cold day and, through a break in the clouds, Karlsson could see the Surrey hills, far to the south.