Jake breathes a sigh of relief. She’s no longer shouting. He finds some pasta in a cupboard, puts it on to boil. They always talked, eventually, if there was a problem, sorting things through in their own muddled way. Except for the time that she saw him on the CCTV cameras with another woman. They’ve never talked about that.

‘Rob doesn’t what?’ he prompts, not sure if he wants to know the answer.

‘He doesn’t burden me with stuff,’ Kate says in a small voice. ‘Makes it hard to understand what’s going on with him.’

She hesitates again. Jake focuses on the pan.

‘Jake?’ Kate asks quietly.

‘I’m still here.’

‘Do you think Rob might… might have been replaced by him? Gil? The man in Thailand?’

‘No, Kate, I don’t.’ Her voice frightens him. She doesn’t sound herself. He pauses, takes a deep breath. ‘Did Bex mention anything about this condition called Capgras? It’s a—’

‘She told me,’ Kate says, interrupting him.

Silence. No one likes to be told they might be delusional.

‘So what do you think?’ he asks.

‘I’m talking to Dr Varma about it.’

‘Who?’

‘He’s a neuropsychiatrist, one of the best in the country. Rob pays.’

Of course he does. Jake doesn’t want to be reminded of Rob’s wealth, or how he, Jake, was singularly unable to provide for Kate.

‘That’s good of him.’ The words sound more sarcastic than he meant. He remembers Bex mentioning something about a shrink.

‘I wish I could explain to you what it’s like,’ Kate says. ‘One moment he looks familiar, the Rob I know and love, the next he’s a total stranger.’ It’s her turn to pause now. ‘I’d be so bloody relieved if it is Capgras, Jake. At least I could stop thinking I’m going nuts.’

Her voice cracks. Jake wishes he were with her now, there to comfort her. In truth, she always was a little bit nuts. Impulsive. Like the day gay marriage was legalised and she painted the outside of the boat in rainbow colours. Her hair has been most colours of the rainbow too, since he’s known her, although she settled on a conservative chestnut when she worked for the police. He wonders what colour it is now.

‘Talk to this guy Dr Varma,’ he says. ‘When are you seeing him?’

‘Tomorrow. I’m coming up to London. On the train.’

He’s not aware of her having come up-country since her move to Cornwall, but what does he know? They live separate lives now.

‘Don’t forget to wave,’ he says. The Penzance to Paddington line runs through the village, parallel with the canal.

‘Sure.’

They are both silent, neither of them hanging up.

‘Did you really not read any of my messages?’ she eventually asks. ‘To Rob?’

‘No.’

‘Thank you.’

Monday

50

Kate