by Nicci French
A small boy was throwing peanuts to a large rat that had emerged on to the grass from beneath a rhododendron bush.
‘If you’re going to feed pigeons,’ said Frieda. ‘You might as well feed rats too.’
‘Shall we walk up higher?’ said Sandy. ‘There’s a better view.’
‘In a minute,’ said Frieda.
‘I wanted to come here for symbolic reasons. I didn’t expect you to turn up at the wedding. I thought you’d cut me out of your life. I was very, very happy when I saw you.’
‘Yes,’ said Frieda. ‘Yes, I was happy too.’ It felt such a very long time ago.
A duck walked along, followed by a line of extremely small ducklings.
‘Normally, I would say that was very sweet,’ said Sandy. ‘But I won’t.’ He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Frieda, I don’t know how to put this but I know it’s been appalling beyond words for you and if you ever want to talk …’
Frieda wrinkled her nose. ‘Do you want me to say that I’m traumatized?’
‘Anyone would be.’
‘I don’t know. We’ll see. Right now, what I mainly feel is sad about Mary Orton. When I close my eyes, I can clearly see her looking up at me. She was looking at me in the last moments of her life and I suppose she was thinking, But you said you were going to protect me. You said it would be all right. I can’t think what else I could have done. I told the police. I dialled the emergency services. I went to her house.’
‘You did all you could.’
‘She had two sons who abandoned her. She was cheated and she turned to me for help and then she was murdered. Anyway, her two sons have got her money now so at least someone’s happy.’
‘This isn’t you talking, Frieda. This isn’t what you’d say to one of your patients.’
‘If I said to my patients what I say to myself, most of them would go off and kill themselves.’
‘It isn’t what you say to Josef, when he blames himself for Mary Orton’s death.’
‘No.’ Her face softened. ‘I tell Josef he did what he could and I should have listened.’
‘So it’s one rule for everyone else and a different one for you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Anyone would be affected by what you’ve been through. But it’s not the being stabbed, the nearly dying, is it? When you talk about what happened to you, which isn’t often, it’s Mary Orton you dwell on, and Janet Ferris, even Beth Kersey, who would have killed you – indeed she almost did. And then there’s Alan Dekker and Kathy Ripon. All the people who are gone. And it occurs to me that you feel – how can I put this? – too much about it, or too personally.’ Sandy stopped and looked at Frieda’s fiercely glowing eyes. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Wait,’ she said. She turned away from him, looking out over the park.
When she turned back her face was paler than ever, her eyes even brighter.
‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Go on.’
‘I have never said this to anyone.’ She took a deep breath. ‘When I was fifteen years old, my father killed himself.’ She held up a hand to stop Sandy saying anything, or coming closer. ‘He hanged himself in the attic of our house.’
‘I’m so sorry, Frieda.’
‘I found him. I cut him down but, of course, he was already dead. He had been very depressed but I thought I could rescue him. I thought I could make him better. I still have a dream where I get to him in time. Over and over again.’ Her large eyes stared at him. ‘I didn’t get to him in time, though,’ she said. ‘Or to Mary Orton. Or Janet Ferris. Or Kathy Ripon. Or poor Alan. People who trusted me and I let them down.’
‘No, my darling.’
‘I feel I carry a curse. You shouldn’t come too close to me.’
‘You can’t keep me away.’
‘Oh,’ said Frieda. For one moment, Sandy thought she would cry. She stepped forward and put one hand against his cheek, staring at him. ‘What are we going to do, Sandy?’
‘We’re going to give ourselves time.’
‘Are we?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you’ll still go back to the States and I’ll still be here?’
‘Yes. But it won’t be the same.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of Waterlow Park. Because of our night-time river walk. Because you’ve shown me how water can flow underground without drying up and disappearing. Because I know you.’
‘Yes,’ said Frieda very softly. ‘You know me.’
‘Hello!’
Sandy and Frieda both looked around. A little girl was standing next to Frieda, clutching a small bunch of daffodils with her two hands. She offered them to Frieda, stretching her arms out and standing on tiptoe. Frieda took them. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. Even though the movement hurt her, she bent over so that her face was closer to the child’s. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘It wasn’t your time,’ said the little girl.
‘What?’ said Frieda. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It wasn’t your time.’ The little girl frowned with concentration, as if she was standing in front of her class at school. ‘It. Wasn’t. Your. Time.’
‘What does that mean?’
She looked alarmed. Frieda thought she might run away. Sandy knelt down and spoke to her in a soft voice. ‘What’s your name?’ he said.
‘Ginny.’
‘That’s a nice name. Ginny, why did you say that?’
‘’Cause he told me to.’
‘Who?’ said Sandy.
‘The man.’
Sandy looked up at Frieda, then back at the little girl. ‘Can you point to him?’
She looked around. ‘No,’ she said.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said, “Give that woman these flowers and say …”’ She paused. ‘I forgot.’
‘Ginny!’ a voice called. ‘Ginny!’
The little girl ran back along the path to her mother.
‘Well, what was that about?’ said Sandy.
‘He’s watching me,’ said Frieda, in a voice hardly louder than a whisper.
‘Who?’
‘Dean,’ she said. ‘Dean Reeve. He’s here. He’s been here all along. I’ve felt him. It was him. I know it was.’ She turned to Sandy with a fierce expression. ‘I couldn’t have cut Beth’s throat. I couldn’t have ripped her belt off to tie it round my leg. He saved me. Dean Reeve saved my life.’
She waited for him to tell her she was paranoid, crazy, but he didn’t. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because he wants to be the person who has the power to destroy me.’
‘What are we going to do?’
She shrugged. ‘What can I do?’
‘I said “we”.’
‘I know. Thank you.’
Sandy put his arms around her and she leaned against him. For a moment they didn’t speak.
‘So, shall we walk up the hill together?’
Frieda shook her head. ‘We should leave now,’ she said. ‘It’s getting dark. The day’s gone.’
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