The Other Side of the Door Nicci French (feel good books to read .TXT) 📖

looked at his face, stiff with misery. ‘Look, I’m sorry—about everything. Really.’

‘What I came to say,’ he began, as if he hadn’t heard me, ‘was that I don’t think you know what you’re doing.’

‘Maybe not.’ He started to reply but I interrupted him. ‘Or maybe I like not knowing.’

‘And when it’s over I’ll still be there.’

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t work out if this was creepy or touching; probably it was a bit of both. Or perhaps, I thought, this was just what love was like when it wasn’t returned—oppressive, inappropriate, with something embarrassing and almost shameful about it.

‘Thanks.’

‘Right.’

I shifted from foot to foot, feeling hot under his gaze.

‘So remember, Bonnie.’

After

When I arrived at Neal’s I felt as if we were two fearful, panicking strangers who didn’t know how to deal with each other. Neal asked me if I wanted a drink but I refused. I felt dizzy already, with a queasy sense of unreality that made it hard to stand steadily and speak evenly. I just wanted to get this over with and be gone.

‘I was just going to have one myself,’ he said. ‘A glass of wine or a beer.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost six. Maybe you need something stronger. I’ve got whisky and there’s vodka I bought in Cracow.’

‘A glass of water would be fine,’ I said. ‘Just from the tap.’

He filled two large tumblers and handed me one. I drained it without any effort and still felt thirsty. I passed it back to him. He gave me the other tumbler and I drank half of it. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been talking to the police,’ I said.

‘I know.’

‘No, they interviewed me again. I’ve just spent the day with them.’

Neal’s expression was completely impassive. ‘Is there a problem?’

I took a deep, shuddery breath. ‘When I first talked to them, I was a bit evasive about my . . . you know, connection with Hayden.’

‘You mean the fact that you were sleeping with him?’

I was tired after my hours of talking to the police, hours of having to think all the time and keep my story consistent. I didn’t feel I could manage any more of it. ‘They asked me if he had a girlfriend and I said he didn’t—because, you know, I wasn’t, not really—and then they talked to other people who mentioned me, so they thought I was lying and I had a reason to be lying, and so they’ve asked me a lot of questions. They were pretty aggressive about it. I’ve come straight from the police station.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Neal. ‘What do you want me to do, Bonnie? I mean, you did have a reason to lie, didn’t you?’

The way he phrased his sentence unsettled me. It took me a few moments to reply. ‘We haven’t talked about what happened. I understand that. Neither of us wanted to. There are some things it’s best to leave unsaid. But now there’s something important I’ve got to tell you and I needed to tell you before you talked to anyone else.’

There was a pause. I was on the verge of speaking the words that I had stopped myself uttering for days and days, but I was going to be forced into it now.

‘Yes?’

‘The police were suspicious,’ I said. ‘They were particularly interested in the evening of August the twenty-first. They even asked me where I was.’

‘I’m sure they did. And what did you say?’

I wanted to sit down, bury my head in my hands, block out the whole loud, violent world. My legs were shaking under me. ‘That’s why I came here. I said I was with you. I said you were my boyfriend.’ I looked closely at Neal, his cold, blank face. ‘Do you understand, Neal? I gave you an alibi.’

Neal turned away from me and brought one hand up to his head. I could see him thinking, as if it was an immense physical effort to be wrestled with. Finally he turned back to me. When he spoke it was slowly and deliberately. ‘You want me to be your alibi? Is that it?’

‘No. Why are you doing this? I know, Neal. You know and I know, and the great charade is over at last. You can stop pretending and so can I.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘Neal?’ Everything seemed to be happening in a murk of incomprehension. ‘Are you listening? I gave you an alibi for the evening Hayden died.’

‘You gave me an alibi?’

I held up a hand to ward off any words. ‘You don’t need to say anything. I don’t really want to talk about it. I want it all to go away. Just accept it, OK?’

‘I think I’m going to regret asking this, but why did you give me an alibi?’

‘Oh, come on, Neal, you know why. Don’t make this even more difficult.’

‘No, Bonnie, I don’t know. What the fuck are you trying to say?’

‘You want me to say it out loud?’

‘Go on.’

I took a deep breath and held his gaze as I finally said the words: ‘Because you killed Hayden.’

There. I’d said it. I thought Neal would get emotional, angry. Perhaps he would break down and cry and tell me he hadn’t meant to, it was an accident, a moment of violence that had turned his life into a nightmare. But he simply stared at me, his face slack and wiped of all expression.

‘What?’

‘You forced me to say it. I wasn’t going to.’

‘I killed Hayden?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s all this about?’ he said. ‘I didn’t kill Hayden.’

‘I know you did, Neal. You don’t need to continue with this.’

‘No. No, Bonnie. This is—well, this is just the most—’ He stopped and gave a loud and shocking bark of laughter. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

‘Me?’

‘Come on, Bonnie.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘What? What?’

‘This is just so—Of course you know I didn’t kill Hayden, because of course I know who did.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘No. But I don’t—I don’t know what you’re doing. Are you trying to send me mad?’

‘That’s