Page 67 of Pictures of Him

Alexa pushes herself back against the mahogany headboard and sits there, arms braced around her knees, looking sideways at him.

‘I don’t think we should.’

‘It’s not our choice, Lex,’ I say, echoing Andrew.

I watch her rest a slim brown hand against his cheek, fingers with giant silver rings, and I am reminded of Ling and her comedy diamond.

‘What if he thinks you’re her?’ I whisper, and Alexa snatches her hand away.

‘Oh God.’

She wipes her hands across her face, smudging her clown’s tears into dirty streaks.

‘I never thought he’d marry,’ she says. ‘I just thought he was one of those funny old bachelor types who would spend his days drinking port and shuffling around his great big house with his Labradors for company. And until Imet Ling I assumed that somehow that was enough and Harry was happy with it. But he wasn’t happy, was he? And then he did find a girlfriend, actually a wife, and look what happens …’

She breaks off, crying quite loudly now. It can only be a matter of time before Harry wakes. Maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know.

‘I’ve spent most of the night lying here thinking about Harry and Ling. I remember after lunch at Harry’s place the other day I thought how lucky they were, the way they’d found each other in pretty unlikely circumstances, let’s face it. But I’ve also been thinking about Jack. And me. And Celia. You know about me and Jack, don’t you? You know we’ve carried on our thing right the way through his marriage?’

‘God, Lex, I didn’t know. I always thought you were still a bit in love with him but that’s all.’

‘Yes, I’m in love with him. But that doesn’t excuse what I’ve done. Do you remember that night when they had just got back from their honeymoon and Celia went home early? He came back with me. I tried to stop him, I tried not to have sex with him, but I just couldn’t seem to help it. I’m powerless where Jack’s concerned. I always have been.’

I shake my head, for I am wordless. The depth of his treachery. Was Catherine powerless too?

You stole my girlfriend. You betrayed your wife. And me, how you have betrayed me.

‘I don’t know why I can’t give him up. I’ve tried to so many times. I hate myself for what I’m doing to Celia. Sleeping with her husband behind her back. I feel like such a bitch. Every time I do it, I hate myself a bit more.’

‘I don’t know what to say, Lex. Jack is trouble. And you and I both know that. Remember what he said to you about Catherine? She’s not who everyone thinks she is? Well, neither is he.’

Alexa stares back at me with confused, troubled eyes and I want so much to tell her the truth – the filthy, ugly truth. Catherine and Jack slept together. That man you love, the one we have both loved for so long, is bad right the way through. And yet I also want to keep this lethal little bullet of knowledge for myself.

‘Why are we even talking about Jack anyway? We should be focusing on Harry.’

Maybe through the waves of temazepam or ketamine or whatever it was the doctor gave him, Harry hears his name, because he shifts in his sleep and the sheets make a soft sighing sound beneath him. I think he is starting to wake up. I need to find some strength to deal with his spilt-second reality; any minute now he’ll be opening his eyes to instant horror, just as Alexa did, only a thousand times worse.

A new text arrives, making us jump. My heart squeezes painfully; I almost can’t look.

‘Is it from Andrew?’

I nod, reading the screen.They’ve got heris all it says.

An hour later and I have dropped Harry home and am on my way to Jack’s house. How many times have I madethis journey, but never like this: my heart feels hollow, my brain half dead. And beneath it all, I pulse with fury.

It has been the worst of nights. Harry, as expected, insisted on seeing Ling before her body was taken away. Alexa and I escorted him to the lake, holding onto one arm each, Harry stumbling as though he was lame and dressed, incongruously, in a pair of my tracksuit bottoms, the only thing that came close to fitting him.

Ling was laid out on a stretcher covered in a black plastic sheet with a crowd of men standing by: the policemen who had been here all night and someone who turned out to be the pathologist.

Harry half collapsed when he saw the stretcher, head and shoulders right down, a dead weight, but Alexa and I just clutched him even tighter and somehow we made it. Andrew walked the last few paces to meet us.

‘Harry,’ he said. ‘I am so sorry.’

Harry said, ‘Please,’ though it was more of a croak than a word.

The policemen scattered and the pathologist introduced himself. He told us Ling’s body had been found lodged in a thick tangle of weeds at the bottom of the lake.

‘Are you saying she was stuck there?’ Harry asked. ‘Is that why she drowned?’

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