then.’
What an inept, bumbling approach. He was a strange man. Talented, yes, but malicious, too tormented himself to feel much kindness for other people, and bitter. What did he have to be bitter about? Choking on his golden spoon. But since he was here, he might as well get some information out of him. ‘Have you know Teresa long?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Neville said. ‘Way back. She used to model at the Slade when I was a student.’
‘Have you ever met her husband?’
‘No – and neither has anybody else. Why?’
Paul could feel Neville’s gaze on the side of his face. ‘I just wondered.’
‘You mean, you wonder if he really exists?’
Paul sat up. ‘You think she’s making it all up?’
Neville shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She likes drama. She likes to be at the centre of the stage with everybody else revolving round her. You saw her, the first night we met. She wouldn’t let Elinor talk toanybody else.’ He waited for Paul to say something. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s a bit odd he never actually shows up. Look, all I’m saying is, if he’s real, why has nobody ever seen him?’ He rolled on to his back. ‘In two years.’
‘She does seem to be genuinely frightened.’
‘She’s an actress. They all are.’
They? Who were ‘they’, for God’s sake? Women? Models? None of it made any sense. And why should other people have seen Halliday? He was hardly likely to stroll into the Café Royal and drag her out into the street.
Abruptly, Paul got to his feet.
‘It’s getting a bit chilly.’
He wanted to get away from Neville.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll get dressed.’
He needed to be with Teresa, to reassure himself that none of this was true.
Seven
That conversation with Neville changed everything. He tried not to let it and, for a time, seemed to be succeeding, but the next time Teresa announced that she’d heard a noise and asked him to go outside and check, he refused. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’
They were lying in the bed after making love. For a moment there was silence. He felt the tension in the arm that lay alongside his.
‘I’ll go,’ she said, reaching for her wrap.
‘No –’
Too late. He heard her bare feet slapping on the lino and then the creak of the front door opening. A current of colder air rippled across his skin. He waited. When she didn’t return immediately he got up and followed her.
She was standing halfway up the basement stairs, peering out between the railings. ‘Look, do you see?’
He followed her pointing finger across the road to a house with a large porch. In the deep shadow he thought he could see a figure, but even as he watched, it split into two. A courting couple.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, struggling to keep the impatience he felt out of his voice.
Teresa turned to look at him.
‘Come back inside.’
She followed him down the steps and back along the passage into the bedroom. ‘You don’t believe me.’
‘I do. But there’s never anybody there when I look.’
‘You think I’m making it up.’
‘No, I don’t think that. But I do think you might be getting it out of proportion.’
‘I had another letter.’
It was the first he’d heard of any letters.
‘Saying what?’
‘The usual.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘I burnt it.’
‘ Why ?’
She turned away from him. ‘Because I couldn’t bear to have it in the house.’
‘What did it say?’
‘That he’s going to kill me.’ She managed a smile. ‘They don’t vary much.’
‘And you don’t keep them?’
‘Would you want something like that in your flat?’
‘No, but I’d keep it. It’s evidence, for God’s sake.’ She shook her head.
‘If you took those letters to the police they’d have to take it seriously. Promise me you’ll keep the next one.’
‘All right.’
He sat down on the bed, his thoughts seething. He watched her carefully all evening. She didn’t seem particularly worried … Later, after they’d eaten,
What an inept, bumbling approach. He was a strange man. Talented, yes, but malicious, too tormented himself to feel much kindness for other people, and bitter. What did he have to be bitter about? Choking on his golden spoon. But since he was here, he might as well get some information out of him. ‘Have you know Teresa long?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Neville said. ‘Way back. She used to model at the Slade when I was a student.’
‘Have you ever met her husband?’
‘No – and neither has anybody else. Why?’
Paul could feel Neville’s gaze on the side of his face. ‘I just wondered.’
‘You mean, you wonder if he really exists?’
Paul sat up. ‘You think she’s making it all up?’
Neville shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She likes drama. She likes to be at the centre of the stage with everybody else revolving round her. You saw her, the first night we met. She wouldn’t let Elinor talk toanybody else.’ He waited for Paul to say something. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s a bit odd he never actually shows up. Look, all I’m saying is, if he’s real, why has nobody ever seen him?’ He rolled on to his back. ‘In two years.’
‘She does seem to be genuinely frightened.’
‘She’s an actress. They all are.’
They? Who were ‘they’, for God’s sake? Women? Models? None of it made any sense. And why should other people have seen Halliday? He was hardly likely to stroll into the Café Royal and drag her out into the street.
Abruptly, Paul got to his feet.
‘It’s getting a bit chilly.’
He wanted to get away from Neville.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll get dressed.’
He needed to be with Teresa, to reassure himself that none of this was true.
Seven
That conversation with Neville changed everything. He tried not to let it and, for a time, seemed to be succeeding, but the next time Teresa announced that she’d heard a noise and asked him to go outside and check, he refused. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’
They were lying in the bed after making love. For a moment there was silence. He felt the tension in the arm that lay alongside his.
‘I’ll go,’ she said, reaching for her wrap.
‘No –’
Too late. He heard her bare feet slapping on the lino and then the creak of the front door opening. A current of colder air rippled across his skin. He waited. When she didn’t return immediately he got up and followed her.
She was standing halfway up the basement stairs, peering out between the railings. ‘Look, do you see?’
He followed her pointing finger across the road to a house with a large porch. In the deep shadow he thought he could see a figure, but even as he watched, it split into two. A courting couple.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, struggling to keep the impatience he felt out of his voice.
Teresa turned to look at him.
‘Come back inside.’
She followed him down the steps and back along the passage into the bedroom. ‘You don’t believe me.’
‘I do. But there’s never anybody there when I look.’
‘You think I’m making it up.’
‘No, I don’t think that. But I do think you might be getting it out of proportion.’
‘I had another letter.’
It was the first he’d heard of any letters.
‘Saying what?’
‘The usual.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘I burnt it.’
‘ Why ?’
She turned away from him. ‘Because I couldn’t bear to have it in the house.’
‘What did it say?’
‘That he’s going to kill me.’ She managed a smile. ‘They don’t vary much.’
‘And you don’t keep them?’
‘Would you want something like that in your flat?’
‘No, but I’d keep it. It’s evidence, for God’s sake.’ She shook her head.
‘If you took those letters to the police they’d have to take it seriously. Promise me you’ll keep the next one.’
‘All right.’
He sat down on the bed, his thoughts seething. He watched her carefully all evening. She didn’t seem particularly worried … Later, after they’d eaten,
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