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Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Maps
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. Chronology
  44. Historical Notes
  45. Acknowledgements
  46. THE BEGINNING

I stood in the hall, collecting myself. Perhaps that hadn’t been the cleverest thing to do, but it was done now. I went to the kitchen and drank some cold water in the hope that it might cool me, but I stayed hot. As I placed the glass back on the sideboard, I checked my watch. Before Tibbot arrived, there was another card that I had to play: to dress the scene like the play that Lorelei’s life had been. If Nick were guilty, it might wrong-foot him and lead him to reveal himself. If innocent, then, well, he would perhaps think I was mad, but at least I would know and could tell him it was the stress of the previous weeks but that it was over now. If he forgave me, we could try to rebuild our marriage. It was either that or leave.

I climbed the stairs, slowly, listening to my own breath, just as I had climbed the stairs in her house.

Our bathroom was smaller than hers. The floor was bare boards, not black-and-white tiles, and the bath was barely large enough for me, unlike Lorelei’s, which was big enough to float in. Nick had framed and hung a few small propaganda posters on the walls. One showed a line of beetles crawling along a factory floor, with a booted foot about to fall on them. LET’S CRUSH THE PARASITES, read the slogan. IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE SHIRKING WORK, LET HIS MANAGER KNOW. OUR NATION HAS ENEMIES OUTSIDE AND IN.

I pressed down the plug and turned the taps. Tepid water flowed through the steel and fell to the bottom with a thud that quickly became a storm-like gushing.

It will all be over soon, I told myself.

From our bedroom wardrobe, I took the box of her possessions. There was the bottle of Champagne, which I carried through and placed on the floor beside the bath. Then, tucked away at the bottom of the box, I found the record from which I had learned to copy her voice. I removed Nick’s player from his study, placed it in the bathroom and set the needle to it. That play, The Lucky Lady, started from the speaker once again.

‘Five pounds on red. And now all my winnings on black.’ All chance.

A knock on the front door told me that Tibbot had arrived. I hurried down to answer it.

But it wasn’t Tibbot standing there. It wasn’t Nick.

Penguin Books

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