I kept walking up the stairs to the second floor, scenes from last night flashing past. Lecter and Clio dancing together; Angela Hayes and her rose-petal dress; the screams when Lecter’s body slammed into the speakers. Outside the bathroom I paused for a second, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  39

  May 1998

  The first thing I noticed was that the drawer beneath the sideboard was hanging open. I also saw that the window on the far side was closed, the curtain becalmed, hanging still. Unlike my mind, which was in turmoil. Had I thrown Lecter a pill? Done anything at all that might have encouraged him to jump? I shut down the repetitive thoughts as fast as they arrived. I was sure I had done nothing to hasten his death. Learnt my lesson from what happened on the quayside in Newlyn. I had checked myself, stopped manhandling him around the bathroom. I’m not a violent man. I can’t let myself think otherwise. My only ‘crime’ was to have locked Lecter in the bathroom, denied him a safe escape from whatever drug-induced demons were chasing him. Left him with only one, fatal way out.

  I looked at the Indian cupboard, tried to imagine the naked bodies of Aldous and his lover. If the rotten.com footage had been filmed in there, where exactly were they having sex? On the floor? By the sink? And where was the camera? I turned to the back wall and felt around the fittings of a towel rail like a plumber. What exactly was I searching for – a hidden camera? The idea seemed increasingly absurd, like something out of the James Bond movie that Ji had ripped last week. I glanced up at the central light. This was a dowdy bathroom in rundown student digs, not the set of Tomorrow Never Dies.

  I began to relax, happier now that it seemed unlikely I had been covertly filmed. And then I looked across at the shower cubicle in the corner. The sides were opaque with limescale, but the door was open. I walked over and peered up at the chrome showerhead. Rather than pointing downwards, it had been angled into the centre of the room – at the area in front of the Indian cupboard. I put one foot inside the shower and stepped up to take a closer look. There were six black rubber water outlets in a circle and a smaller outlet in the middle. It was this one that interested me. The outlet was covered in a thin layer of glass. Like a lens.

  ‘Careful, it can come on unexpectedly,’ a familiar voice said behind me.

  I spun around. Louis was standing in the middle of the bathroom, rolling a cigarette. His eyes weren’t orange any more. They were coal-black and no less disconcerting.

  ‘I didn’t know you were here. I was looking for my bag,’ I said, adrenaline surging through me.

  ‘In the shower?’ he asked, a wry smile on his lips.

  Which way was this heading? I hoped his smile would linger and that we’d be affable with each other, as we had been before; that he’d somehow make light of me snooping around his house. But that was too much to ask. His smile fell away, broke into a sneer.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he said, closing the bathroom door behind him. ‘Come to kick the dying embers? Like an arsonist? They always return to the scene of their crime. So I’m told.’

  What did he mean? I swallowed, glancing at the closed window. This time it was me who was trapped. There was no way out.

  ‘I know about Aldous,’ I said, flexing my fingers. I wasn’t expecting Louis to turn violent – his physique was frail, birdlike – but my body clearly thought otherwise.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ he said, feigning ignorance. But I’d caught a flicker pass across the dark pools of his eyes, like the flash of the kingfisher in Grantchester, so quick that you questioned whether you’d seen anything at all.

  ‘I know you made a film about him,’ I said, gaining confidence. ‘A Life in the Day of…, like the one you’re making with me.’

  ‘He was very pleased with it,’ Louis said, eyes still focused on mine. All the charming bonhomie, the director’s relaxed chatter, had gone.

  ‘So why did he take his life?’ I asked. I wasn’t going to mention the rotten.com footage. Not yet. I still had no proof that Louis was behind it.

  ‘You seem to be implying that my film and his tragic death are in some way connected. As I say, he was delighted with our little movie. “Chuffed to bits” – I think that’s how he put it in his quaint Northern accent.’ Louis lit his roll-up and inhaled.

  ‘With all of it?’ This time it was my turn to hold his gaze.

  He turned away, said nothing. I decided to reveal my hand.

  ‘I’ve seen the footage,’ I said. ‘Of Aldous with another man. It was posted on rotten.com. I’m sure you’re familiar with the website.’

  ‘I’m surprised you are. Didn’t have you down as a rubbernecking pervert. That had nothing to do with me.’

  I knew he was lying. ‘But you’re aware of the footage,’ I said evenly.

  He hesitated again, interrogating me with those dark eyes, trying to fathom how much I really knew. It seemed my mentioning the footage had caught him off guard. So I doubled down.

  ‘It was filmed in here, wasn’t it?’ I said, looking around the bathroom.

  ‘Here?’ He laughed.

  His games were beginning to annoy me now. He was a terrible actor. No wonder he stayed behind the camera.

  ‘I recognised the cupboard,’ I said, gesturing at it. ‘The Indian mirrorwork. You filmed it from a hidden camera in the shower.’ I nodded at the cubicle. ‘I saw the glass lens – in the showerhead.’ Did he secretly film his flatmates – his guests – in the shower too? I wouldn’t put it past him, a manwho had a camcorder that could see through people’s clothes. ‘And I think you also filmed me in here last night.’

  I was on a roll now, fuelled by adrenaline. I had nothing to lose. He’d caught me red-handed, poking around his bathroom. ‘Taking drugs – never a good look for an aspiring medic. Except that I didn’t, did I? I resisted the urge to compromise myself on camera. Unlike poor Aldous. What did you do it for – the money? Aldous wanted to be a lawyer, had an important job interview. Did you blackmail him? Were you trying to blackmail me too? Is that what you’re really doing here with your shitty little films? It didn’t work though, did it? We all went off script last night. Improvised big time. I kept my nose clean and somebody died.’

  I was breathing hard. I’d said too much, more than I meant to, pouring out barely formed thoughts. If even half of what I’d said was right, I was in trouble. In the presence of a dangerous man. On my own. Thank God the window was closed.

  ‘Have you finished?’ Louis asked, turning to push in the open drawer.

  ‘I’m going to the police,’ I said, thinking fast.

  ‘Shame – you’ve just missed them.’ He ran the tap and cleaned a smudge from the sink with his forefinger.

  ‘I gather you didn’t clear up quite enough,’ I said, watching as he finished at the sink. ‘Traces of class As found in the drawer.’

  He turned to face me, leaning back against the sideboard. ‘You think you’re so smart, don’t you? A fucking know-it-all.’

  His tone scared me.

  ‘For the record,’ he continued, ‘traces of cocaine were found in the drawer here, but there was insufficient evidence to link it back to me. Anyone could have left cocaine in there.’

  ‘But it was locked.’

  ‘Not when the police found it.’

  Louis must have unlocked it before they arrived, hidden the key.

  ‘They were more interested in our local drug dealer, who I was delighted to tell them about. An obnoxious little thundercunt who’s been hanging around outside student parties in recent weeks, pushing dodgy drugs – MDMA cut with ket, that kind of thing. Lethal shit – you can’t feel pain and it causes violent hallucinations. Accidental deaths.’

  I remembered seeing the hooded figure lurking in the shadows when I arrived at the party.

  ‘The police knew all about him, were only too pleased to arrest him,’ Louis continued. ‘When the toxicology report comes through, I have no doubt they’ll be able to link whatever drugs are found in Brandon’s body with the crap that the dealer was pushing last night.’

  ‘You think that’s what made him jump?’

  ‘Jump? That would be convenient,’ he said.

  Again, I didn’t like the sudden change of tone.

  ‘You must have caught it all on camera,’ I said.

  ‘Oh yes, I caught it alright. He didn’t jump, though.’ He smirked. ‘Would you like to see what really happened?’

  40

  Adam steps off the train and for a second he expects to see Tania waiting on the platform, Tilly in her arms, Freddie rushing up to him. It’s a scene that has played out many times in recent years, but not today. Instead, he watches as the elderly man in front of him is met by a young family.

  ‘If I’d known grandchildren were this much fun, I’d have had them first,’ the old gent says as Adam helps him with his luggage. Two small children run towards him from the far end of the platform, hesitating as they watch their grandfather step down from the train and steady himself, breathing in the spring evening air. ‘I wasn’t there for my own son,’ he adds, nodding down the platform.

  A couple are waiting at the far end – the man’s son and daughter-in-law, presumably. Adam smiles as the children accompany the elderly man along the platform, one skipping, the other dragging a suitcase twice his size behind him. He turns away, eyes brimming. He hasn’t phoned Tania to tell her that he’s here in Wiltshire. Even if he had rung, he fears there wouldn’t have been a reception committee. Nor has he revealed that he’s been suspended from his job. He needs to talk to Tania in person. There’s something else he must tell her too, a secret that he should have shared years ago, when they first met. Now, there’s no excuse. No time left.

  He stands on the platform, watching the happy family unit escort their grandfather into a battered old Land Rover. And then he notices the cameras. One on either platform. The station wasn’t big enough to warrant CCTV – at least that’s what the locals were told last year when someone decorated the shelter with graffiti. Now there are two cameras. Adam turns away, tells himself it’s a coincidence, and walks down the platform, wishing he could throw off his paranoia. It’s corroding him from the inside, like acid.

  On the far side of the water meadow, a narrowboat makes its way along the Kennet and Avon Canal. In front of it, a pair of swans begin a low, unlikely take-off. The canal runs parallel with the railway, but it was here first, according to Crispin, Tania’s father. For a while, it had the run of the valley – until the railway took over. It’s been fighting back in recent years and is more popular than ever, as Crispin never ceases to tell Adam. He owns a boat further along the canal and takes the family on trips down to Devizes, up to Newbury.

  Adam sets off along the towpath with a heavy heart, his head full of memories. In his hand, a bunch of freesias, bought on Paddington station. It’s a half-mile walk to her parents’ house, which is set back from the canal, outside the village. Ahead of him, a solitary tern hovers and plunges into the water. Cows graze on the far shore. And high above, red kites soar on the evening thermals. Adam came here for weekends when he and Tania were first married, only too pleased to be spoilt by her parents and to catch up on sleep. Happy, simple days. He should have told her his secret then, but he was terrified of losing her, the life they had created together. The longer he left it, the harder it became. And now he’s about to pay the price.

  ‘There should be no secrets in a marriage,’ Crispin had said, on a walk together before the wedding, which was held in a big marquee on the back lawn after a service at the village church. Adam’s suggestion of Cornwall had been shot down by Crispin – a pint of Proper Job in the Swordy wasn’t quite what he had in mind for the biggest day of his daughter’s life. Theirs was an uneasy relationship at the best of times. When Adam first met Tania, Crispin was wary, suspicious of a first-gen, state-school-educated medic, even if he had been to Cambridge (wrong college, apparently). Going into paediatrics only compounded the problem. It was a female specialty, a far cry from the alpha-male world of brain surgery, where women still number less than 10 per cent.

  He is five hundred yards from the house when he notices the security cameras at the gates, perched on each pillar like birds of prey. There never used to be cameras at the property. Has Adam missed something? Have Tania’s parents recently been burgled? At least the gates are open. He walks through them, glancing up at the cameras as he heads across the gravel courtyard towards the handsome farmhouse with its local limestone walls, Welsh slate roof and wooden sash windows. Crispin’s pride and joy. To one side, the red-brick stable block where they always stay. To the other, more outbuildings, where Crispin keeps his vintage cars. Is everyone out for a walk? It’s very quiet. Too quiet. Their own car is here, which is a relief. Tania could have decided to head back to London and not told him. For a second he feels like an intruder, which is weird, given how many times he’s been here. But today he’s unwanted by Tania, an uninvited guest.

  ‘Daddy!’ a voice cries out behind him.

  Adam wheels around to see Freddie running across the paddock, a red bucket at his side. He ducks under the wooden fenceposts and sprints over, sloshing water everywhere.

  ‘Hello, monkey,’ Adam says, scooping Freddie up in his arms. ‘Been out for a walk?’

  ‘Catching crayfish with Mummy and Tilly.’

  ‘Did you get any?’ Adam says, peering into the bucket.

  No crayfish. Just a few inches of murky water. They usually catch big American beasts – the ones that have been eating the native variety, much to Crispin’s dismay.

  Adam shakes his head in disappointment, but Freddie seems far from bothered.

  ‘Grandpa’s setting up the Scalextric,’ Freddie says, sliding off Adam to the ground. ‘He’s got a new chicane.’ In Freddie’s world, Grandpa’s Scalextric track trumps almost everything, except perhaps fish finger sandwiches, and he starts to hop up and down in excitement.

  ‘That’s good,’ Adam says.

  But he’s not really engaged. Tania is walking across the paddock, Tilly in a papoose on her back. She looks up at him. Adam waves, but she doesn’t wave back as she unfastens the paddock gate.

  ‘How’s Mummy?’ he asks.

  ‘Sad,’ Freddie says, whooshing the water around the bucket.

  Adam’s heart sinks. ‘Still sad? I wonder why,’ he says.

  ‘Hmmm. Missing Daddy?’ Freddie tilts his head to one side. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘These should cheer her up, don’t you think?’ Adam says, showing Freddie the bunch of freesias. They are Tania’s favourite flower – she wore them in her hair at their wedding, a day when she looked so radiant and happy. So beautiful.

  ‘Maybe,’ he mutters, as Freddie runs back over to Tania. He’s got a lot of energy today.

  Maybe not. It’s going to take a lot more than flowers.

  ‘Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!’ Freddie shouts.

  ‘I can see that,’ Tania says, holding Freddie’s hand as she walks up to Adam. ‘This is a surprise.’

  Not a nice surprise. Not missing him that much.

  ‘I wasn’t sure my texts were sending,’ Adam says, glancing down at Freddie. They’ve become good at talking in code in front of him. ‘Wasn’t getting many replies.’

  ‘I turned my phone off. Someone sent me this weird random photo. Quite upsetting actually.’

  ‘Can Daddy cook us our tea?’ Freddie says, wrapping himself around Adam’s legs. ‘I like it when Daddy cooks.’

  Not helpful. Not helpful at all. Tania gives him a weary look, starts to rock Tilly, who is stirring on her back.

  ‘Why don’t you go and help Grandpa set up the Scalextric and I’ll join you in a minute,’ Adam says, bending down to Freddie. ‘I just need to have a quick word with Mummy.’ And then he whispers into his ear, ‘To make her less sad.’ If only that were true.

  Tania looks on as Adam kisses Freddie’s forehead.

  ‘What did you say to him?’ she asks, as Freddie rushes over to the outbuildings, leaving the bucket at their feet.

  ‘Don’t slam the—’ she calls after their son. But it’s too late. They both wince as the door swings shut, shaking the glass in the pretty fanlight above it. It’s a smaller version of the one above the house’s front door and a miracle it doesn’t shatter.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Adam says, turning back to Tania. ‘I bought you these.’

  ‘I’m not sure there’s much to say.’ She brushes back a strand of hair as she takes the flowers from Adam’s outstretched hand and smells them.

  He looks around the courtyard, out across the shady paddock, bathed in filtered sunlight. Two ponies hang their heads over the fence. Life must be so simple as a pony.

  ‘The photo Clio sent you is the least of my problems right now,’ he says.

  Tania smirks. ‘Glad it’s such a non-issue for you.’

  ‘Nothing happened. I promise you. And if you’ll just give me a chance to explain…’

  Tania starts to walk away. ‘I think it’s best for everyone if you go back to London,’ she says. ‘Thank you for the flowers.’

  ‘Tania, please!’ Adam calls out. If Tilly wakes, so be it. ‘Someone’s trying to destroy my life. Our life. It’s not just the photo you were sent of Clio. I’ve been suspended from work. Stephen Goddard asked to meet me this morning for a coffee. Wanted to tell me in person.’

  Tania stops and turns to face Adam, her mouth open in shock. ‘Suspended?’