to feel some resentment towards him as her sister’s husband, especially as she herself wasn’t married. Yet Blake’s behaviour at the party had, in actual fact, been rather
suspicious: when Elinor had introduced her as her therapist, he’d seemed thoroughly rattled. Maybe he did have something to hide, after all.
And what about Blake and Elinor’s body language at the party, towards the end, when Isobel had left? While not overtly amorous, it had revealed an intimate, if not necessarily sexual,
connection between them. If Elinor was indeed betraying Isobel by having a secret affair with Blake, or at least some kind of complex dalliance, she could well be projecting her guilt about that
onto Blake, blaming him for her mother’s death, and becoming more and more troubled herself in the process . . .
There was a knock at the door.
Jess realized that she hadn’t left it ajar, as she usually did before Elinor’s session, and hurried over.
She opened the door. Elinor stood outside, dressed only in a thin T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Her face was milky white, and she was shivering.
‘You look frozen. Come in.’
‘I can’t.’ There was a vein throbbing at Elinor’s temple, the blue visible beneath her translucent skin. ‘I just don’t feel too good today.’
‘OK.’ Jess made a snap decision, disturbed by Elinor’s appearance. ‘Let’s go and do the session in the park. I’ll get my coat.’
She went over to the hat stand, grabbed her bag, and put on her coat – the green tweed. Then she picked up the baggy woollen cardigan she’d kept in the office for Frank’s
session, and a thick, knitted scarf of Rose’s that she’d borrowed one chilly morning, and brought them out to Elinor.
Elinor took the cardigan, quite meekly, and donned it, buttoning it up at the front. It came down to her knees. Then she wrapped the scarf around her neck. She looked like a child, wrapped up by
its mother for a winter walk.
Jess got out her keys and locked the door. Then they set off down the stairs.
‘What happened to your mac?’
‘It got wet.’ Elinor didn’t offer any further explanation.
Jess was concerned. Elinor’s condition seemed to have deteriorated markedly since their last encounter; she was neglectful of her appearance, to the point where she wasn’t even
bothering to dress properly for the weather, and she seemed unable to stand being indoors for even a moment, let alone a fifty-minute session in the consulting room.
They walked down Cathedral Road, towards the Llandaff Fields. There was a bench by the river there where Jess often went to sit and watch the water birds, and to think. She’d take Elinor
there, she decided. It was a calm spot, and few people passed by, except for the odd cyclist or dog walker.
They didn’t talk as they walked – Elinor was too tense to make conversation. On the way, she had an attack of nerves and needed to pee, so they had to stop at the public toilets. She
was anxious about going, afraid that she might get locked in, and Jess had to reassure her she’d be waiting right outside if anything went wrong. When she emerged, they walked on quickly to
the riverside.
They found the bench, and sat down. It was a grey, misty day, and there was little activity in the river, except for a few ducks dabbling in the shallows.
‘So.’ Jess settled herself on the bench. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’
Elinor sat beside her, her body inclined slightly towards Jess, with a gap between them. ‘It’s just the pressure, I think. It’s been building up. First there was the private
view, which stressed us all out, and then yesterday Blake was taken in for questioning.’ She paused. ‘This policewoman just won’t give up.’
‘The same one as before?’
Elinor nodded. ‘DS Lauren Bonetti, her name is.’
The name was familiar. Jess had come across DS Bonetti in connection with another of her patients a while back. She’d taken a bit of a shine to her, in
suspicious: when Elinor had introduced her as her therapist, he’d seemed thoroughly rattled. Maybe he did have something to hide, after all.
And what about Blake and Elinor’s body language at the party, towards the end, when Isobel had left? While not overtly amorous, it had revealed an intimate, if not necessarily sexual,
connection between them. If Elinor was indeed betraying Isobel by having a secret affair with Blake, or at least some kind of complex dalliance, she could well be projecting her guilt about that
onto Blake, blaming him for her mother’s death, and becoming more and more troubled herself in the process . . .
There was a knock at the door.
Jess realized that she hadn’t left it ajar, as she usually did before Elinor’s session, and hurried over.
She opened the door. Elinor stood outside, dressed only in a thin T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Her face was milky white, and she was shivering.
‘You look frozen. Come in.’
‘I can’t.’ There was a vein throbbing at Elinor’s temple, the blue visible beneath her translucent skin. ‘I just don’t feel too good today.’
‘OK.’ Jess made a snap decision, disturbed by Elinor’s appearance. ‘Let’s go and do the session in the park. I’ll get my coat.’
She went over to the hat stand, grabbed her bag, and put on her coat – the green tweed. Then she picked up the baggy woollen cardigan she’d kept in the office for Frank’s
session, and a thick, knitted scarf of Rose’s that she’d borrowed one chilly morning, and brought them out to Elinor.
Elinor took the cardigan, quite meekly, and donned it, buttoning it up at the front. It came down to her knees. Then she wrapped the scarf around her neck. She looked like a child, wrapped up by
its mother for a winter walk.
Jess got out her keys and locked the door. Then they set off down the stairs.
‘What happened to your mac?’
‘It got wet.’ Elinor didn’t offer any further explanation.
Jess was concerned. Elinor’s condition seemed to have deteriorated markedly since their last encounter; she was neglectful of her appearance, to the point where she wasn’t even
bothering to dress properly for the weather, and she seemed unable to stand being indoors for even a moment, let alone a fifty-minute session in the consulting room.
They walked down Cathedral Road, towards the Llandaff Fields. There was a bench by the river there where Jess often went to sit and watch the water birds, and to think. She’d take Elinor
there, she decided. It was a calm spot, and few people passed by, except for the odd cyclist or dog walker.
They didn’t talk as they walked – Elinor was too tense to make conversation. On the way, she had an attack of nerves and needed to pee, so they had to stop at the public toilets. She
was anxious about going, afraid that she might get locked in, and Jess had to reassure her she’d be waiting right outside if anything went wrong. When she emerged, they walked on quickly to
the riverside.
They found the bench, and sat down. It was a grey, misty day, and there was little activity in the river, except for a few ducks dabbling in the shallows.
‘So.’ Jess settled herself on the bench. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’
Elinor sat beside her, her body inclined slightly towards Jess, with a gap between them. ‘It’s just the pressure, I think. It’s been building up. First there was the private
view, which stressed us all out, and then yesterday Blake was taken in for questioning.’ She paused. ‘This policewoman just won’t give up.’
‘The same one as before?’
Elinor nodded. ‘DS Lauren Bonetti, her name is.’
The name was familiar. Jess had come across DS Bonetti in connection with another of her patients a while back. She’d taken a bit of a shine to her, in
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