Ruth Rendell: The Thief

She looked again. What she saw made her feel sick. It was Lant’s car and Lant was sitting in the driving seat.

ALEX GOT OUT, TOOK the shopping out of the boot, came round and opened the door on the passenger side for her. He always did that. She had to get out, though she would have liked the earth to open and close over her head. Alex said, ‘Let’s get inside before it starts raining again.’

She followed him, not looking behind her. He unlocked the front door. A hand on her shoulder made her spin round. Trevor Lant stood there on the path. Today he was wearing a bright red jacket. He looked her straight in the eye, the way she looked at people when she lied, but he didn’t speak to her. He said to Alex, ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘What did you say?’

‘I asked who the hell you are.’

‘I might ask you the same question. This is my house.’

‘And the woman with you is my girlfriend.’ Again Lant put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Thanks for bringing the money back, darling. That’s all I came for. You’ve still got some of my clothes but you can bring them back when you come over tonight.’

Polly tried to speak but she couldn’t. She was shaking all over. She knew she had changed colour, but she couldn’t tell if she had gone red or white. Lant said, ‘Who is this chap, anyway? Your ex, I suppose.’

‘Go,’ Alex said in a voice she had never heard before. ‘Go or I’ll call the police.’

Lant shrugged. ‘I’d say I don’t admire your taste in men, Polly, only you’ve got me now.’ He turned away, laughing. ‘You’ve got your dragon now. I’ll see you later.’

As the rain began again, he went back down the path, let himself out of the gate and got into his car. Everything in the street was grey but for his red jacket and his bright blue car. Alex went into the house and she stumbled in after him.

Her voice, which had gone and left her dumb, came back, a poor little thin voice. ‘I can explain.’

‘What is there to explain?’ He sounded very tired.

He went into the kitchen and began taking all the things he had bought out of the bags and putting them in the fridge. Her voice gaining strength, she said, ‘I really can explain, Alex. It’s not what you think.’

He left what he was doing and looked at her. It was a stranger’s face, one she thought she had never seen before.

‘Let me tell you what I think,’ he said. ‘I know who that man was. I recognised him, though I don’t know his name. He was the man at Heathrow with the orange bag. I think you met on the flight. Or maybe you knew each other before and arranged to meet at the airport. Anyway, you spent your time in New York with him. You saw him on Friday night, on Saturday morning and last night. I don’t know where the money comes into this or the clothes but it doesn’t matter. You can go off with him now. You won’t have to tell me any more lies.’

‘Alex, it wasn’t like that. I took his bag at Heathrow. On the way back. And I had to get it back to him…’

Her voice failed and grew hoarse. Of course he wouldn’t believe her. No one would believe her. She would have to tell him the whole thing, from the start of it when she was eight.

‘My aunt hit me in the garden, so I stole her book and cut up the pages and…’

‘Spare me this, Polly,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where your aunt comes into this or your stealing that man’s bag. It’s all lies, isn’t it? I know you tell lies. I’ve always known it but I thought you’d begun to change. I was wrong, that’s all.’

‘Alex, don’t. Don’t talk like this. That man is nothing to me. I barely know him. It’s true I went to New York with him and came back with him. I’ve been to his house too but it’s not the way you think…’

‘Was that his T-shirt I ironed?’

‘Yes, it was but I can explain…’

He didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. She heard him talking to someone on the phone in the next room but not what he was saying. Then he went upstairs. Somehow she had to make him see. If she were to phone Lant, tell him about her and Alex, how she loved Alex, tell him they were going to be married, surely then… But that wouldn’t work. Lant had come here on purpose to make Alex think he and Polly were having an affair. That was his revenge. He had seen, and now she could see, that everything she had done after stealing his case, made it look as if they were lovers. Her trips to his house, the lies she told, his clothes that she still had, the truth she had to tell, that he and she had gone to New York together and come back on the same flight. Could he somehow have followed her when she put the money through his door and had seen Alex waiting for her on the step?

Upstairs, Alex was in their bedroom, putting things into a case. She thought of how many times she had seen this scene in a film. The person who was leaving packing a case. The one who was left watching him do it. She felt cold in the warm room and as sick as she had when she first opened Lant’s case.

‘I’m going to my sister’s,’ Alex said. ‘I just phoned her.’

‘Alex, are you saying you’re leaving me?’

‘You’ve left me, haven’t you?’

‘Of course I haven’t. I told you, this is all a stupid mistake.’

‘You haven’t had money from this man? You haven’t got some of his clothes? You don’t know where he lives?’

‘Yes to all that, but I can explain…’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘that what you’re going to say will be a lie. So don’t say it. At least don’t make a fool of yourself now. Not when we’re parting.’ He closed the case.

Polly took hold of him by the arm. She held on to him with both hands as if she could keep him with her by force. ‘Don’t say that, please don’t. I can explain if you’ll let me.’

‘Let me go, Polly. We’re better apart. We’ve been happy in this house but I don’t want to live here any more. You’ll be with him wherever it is he lives. I shall probably sell this place, but it’s too early to say…’

She was crying. She hung on to him and tried to stop him going. Gently, he pulled himself away, prised her hands off him. She fell on the bed and sobbed. Alex went down the stairs and she heard the front door close.

HOW COULD HE DO this to me? she asked herself as she lay there. How could he? I explained. I explained as much as he’d let me. He wouldn’t listen. At any rate, Trevor Lant had a reason for doing what he did. He wanted revenge on me because I took his money. Giving it back wasn’t enough for him. He wanted revenge and I can understand that. I know all about revenge. But Alex…

He had been totally unreasonable. She had told him she could explain and she had tried to but he wouldn’t listen. He had believed Lant but not her. Just because she sometimes told lies. Everyone told lies – except him. She hadn’t asked him to have such high standards for her. Who was he to judge her? Who was he to break up her whole world in ten minutes?

That morning he had been going to ask her to marry him. He would have bought the ring. She got up from the bed and looked out of the window. He had taken the car. It was his car, but how did he think she was to get around? It was cruel what he had done and she hated him for it.

An idea came to her and she moved across to ‘his’ chest of drawers. Well, all the furniture was his, but this was the chest he kept his own things in. She opened one drawer after another. His clothes were in them, socks, ties, sweaters, all but the bottom drawer which he had emptied when he packed. She tried the bedside cabinet on his side. A book, an old wallet, a watch he never wore. He hadn’t taken any of his suits and only one jacket. She went through the pockets of his raincoat, his leather jacket. All the pockets were empty except for one in his overcoat. There was a jeweller’s box in there, a little square box of red velvet.