The Question: A bestselling psychological thriller full of shocking twists. Jane Asher

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СКАЧАТЬ her know it was settled, she pressed the Play button and listened to the two messages that were stored on the tape. There was the one that he had left at eight fifteen, a casual, everyday, uninteresting message about budgets or something. She hardly listened. Then the recent sickening one – loving, understanding and oh so calmly self-satisfied.

      A small part of her wondered yet again if she could possibly have been mistaken in everything she thought she had found out. He sounded so utterly confident and plausible: it took her breath away to consider the efficiency of his lying. To have known he had been living a double life, a life of pretence and deception, of planning and brilliant juggling of times, dates and telephone calls had been hard enough to believe. Now that she could hear him doing it, it seemed even more unreal, and more preposterous.

      She didn’t want to see him. Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of facing him – either to have to try to maintain the pretence that everything was normal or to risk blurting out the muddled accumulation of semi-facts that made up her evidence. By the time he came home the next evening she knew she must be gone; and gone without his knowing that anything was wrong. In the morning she would pack a few things and leave before he returned. Perhaps this was the time to go to Andrew’s. When she had rung him and suggested going to stay with him she had done so without thinking, not at all sure whether she had any intention of really doing so, or whether it was simply a comforting idea, to be imagined but never undertaken in reality. Now it suddenly seemed a good idea.

      But as she walked back into the bedroom and moved towards the bed she stopped, suddenly overcome with revulsion. He had lain there. He had lain there next to her and chatted about his week; slipped an arm round her shoulders; drunk the tea she had brought him. And all the time his body and mind had been betraying her.

      She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to get back into the sheets he had fouled with his lies. She wanted out. She would go now. Tonight.

      She picked a selection of easy, comfortable clothes, threw a minimum of cosmetics and washing things into a sponge bag and put it all in a small suitcase. What else do people take when they’re leaving home? she thought to herself, feeling like a character in a film escaping the law, or eloping. Passport! That was it – you took your passport. ‘Oh don’t be so melodramatic,’ she said out loud, but walked into the sitting room and over to the desk, where the spare keys to the small wall safe were kept in a secret compartment at the back of a drawer, the originals being on John’s own keyring.

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