‘Have you interviewed him?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’ Todd sounded puzzled. ‘Weeks ago. We contacted him at his office. Didn’t he tell you?’
I admitted that he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have done, of course. The subject was not discussed any more, that was how Robin and I dealt with the huge rift which I suppose I had to take the blame for creating between us by my persistent doubting of him. We just pretended it wasn’t there. And, whatever the truth about the Abri disaster and the whole damned horror story, whatever the outcome of his police interview, Robin was highly unlikely to be the one to bring any of it up.
‘What do you really think Todd?’ I asked, still desperately seeking reassurance, I suppose.
He sighed. ‘I’ve given up doing that kind of thinking, Rose,’ he said. ‘It’s only evidence that counts, and we don’t have any.’
My time in limbo eventually began to run out. The doctor I was seeing finally pronounced me medically fit for work when I visited him at the end of March. My bosses were still patient, however, and I was told that I had until May to decide whether to go back to work or leave the police force permanently. I still guessed I would go back, although I wasn’t looking forward to it. The official explanation for my prolonged absence was that I was having a breakdown following the tragic events I had experienced in my life. Sometimes I thought that was more or less the truth.
I took the opportunity to talk it all over with Julia. I told myself I was executing a kind of therapy for her, trying to help her remember all that she had forgotten. The truth was the therapy was for me. I wanted to get rid of all my worries, to banish the last of my suspicions for ever. In any case, to begin with certainly, the reliving of past worries was to no avail with Julia. She accepted what I said, of course, but remained without any memory of her part in it all, and her attitude seemed at first to be that of someone hearing a story which in no way involved her.
Nonetheless, as her mental and physical condition improved I was conscious of her attitude to Robin subtly changing yet again. Superficially she continued to treat him in the same way, but I spotted her studying him warily on more than one occasion. I suspected that at least areas of her memory were returning, but I was unsure of what or how much exactly, and she did not seem to want to go into that. I thought actually that maybe she preferred to remember as little as possible. After all, she still had a long way to go before she would be anything like completely well.
After a while I did make one or two desultory attempts to talk to Robin about it all, my spurious excuse being a desire to clear the air. But all that happened was that the rift between us which we so effectively ignored manifested itself in tangible form.
‘I can forgive you for having doubted me, Rose,’ he told me harshly. ‘But I shall never be able quite to forget.’
More than that he would not say. He refused any further discussion. At one point he told me that if ever I mentioned the subject again he would leave me, and still that was a threat guaranteed to at least make me try to do as he willed. I remained unable to countenance life without him. And, in spite of everything, some kind of normality had returned to us. Strange how it always does. It has to really, I suppose, in order for any of us to survive.
Robin continued to work towards rebuilding and repopulating Abri. I liked the idea no more than I had when he had first told me about it in such excitement, but I knew that there would be no swaying him from his course. A new survey had been completed. AKEKO were now as convinced as Robin was that a tourist project was still feasible, and all that remained was to satisfy the demands of the various safety and planning authorities.
I reckoned there would be a public outcry if the plans Robin and AKEKO were making were allowed to go ahead, but I told myself that wasn’t my problem. I also told myself it was time, once and for all, to stop dwelling on the Abri disaster and its legacy. I had, after all, done everything in my power to seek out the hidden truth, and indeed I was beginning to convince myself yet again that Robin had been honest all along and that the only real problem was within my head. There was no hidden truth. I told myself it was over now, and I was probably lucky the man was still prepared to put up with me.
I didn’t think our relationship would ever be quite the same again. Much of the magic had gone. Nothing destroys magic like lack of trust. But I did still love Robin, and I was sure he still loved me.
The sex remained sensational. Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. If ever I came close to experiencing any clarity in my thoughts concerning Robin it would be destroyed by the rush of blood to the head which took over my senses every time he even started to make love to me. The pleasure was so intense, so extreme, it was almost like a sickness.
Twenty-Two
Eventually Julia recovered sufficiently so that even I deemed her well enough to leave us. She stayed with us for just over a month, which meant that she was away from her devastated London home for a total of four months, during which time the flat, fortuitously well-insured, was completely renovated, redecorated and refurnished. Kendal Rees, an achingly trendy interior designer friend of Julia’s, undertook the bulk of the work, although Julia and I made a couple of gentle shopping trips to London in order to make some personal choices.
From the moment she had begun to function again Julia had been quite determined to return to her flat, declaring with encouraging ferocity that she was not going to be scared away from her own bloody home. But her family and friends, including me, did manage to persuade her not even to visit the place until all the damage had been repaired and it was ready to move into again.
I volunteered to drive her up to town. On a gloriously bright April morning we loaded up my car with her clothes and the various debris she had acquired during her convalescence. It was the first truly beautiful spring day of the year, and I rather hoped that might be a good omen for all our futures. Julia was almost childishly excited. I could understand that well enough. When you are used to having your own home nothing else will quite do, and even hospitality from people you love is ultimately a poor substitute. I also realised that in Julia’s case going home to her own place represented the final stage of her recovery.
We were practically ready to leave when Julia suddenly turned to me. ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got a door key.’
Now that was something to which I just hadn’t given a thought, and neither had anyone else apparently. But surely she could call Kendal, I suggested, presumably he had at least one key which he could give her.
‘I think he’s got two or three — but not today he won’t,’ said Julia glumly. ‘He’s up north at some exhibition. He apologised for not being around.’
She touched her head tentatively, as if unsure if it were quite healed.
‘I can’t believe I could forget something like that,’ she said. ‘I never used to forget things, not important things anyway.’
She sounded troubled. I suppose when you have had your brain sliced open, the slightest blip is going to make you worry about your mental health.
‘Everybody else forgot too,’ I reminded her. But she still looked dejected.
‘I suppose everybody assumed I had a key already,’ she went on. ‘It’s the same front door you see. Steel-plated to be burglar- and fireproof — obviously successfully because it’s about the only thing that hasn’t had to be replaced.’
I hadn’t even known that the same door and lock had been retained during the renovations. As soon as that sunk in I quickly remembered Julia’s key hanging in the cupboard along with all Robin’s and my various keys.