4

KATE CHANGED INTO her trainers by the lift and walked out into the chill night. The wind was biting, so she took a cashmere beanie from her coat and pulled it down tight over her ears. Normally, this daily walk helped bring some order to her thoughts, but tonight, the rhythmic pace of the journey seemed to accelerate the rising tide of her anxiety. Now that Stuart had gone, the only person she shared her true state of mind with was her aunt Rose, who combined the role of mentor at work – as the long-time head of the Finance Department, it had been she who’d first encouraged Kate to apply for the Service from Cambridge – and surrogate mother at home. Kate’s real mother was in a home nearby with Alzheimer’s, which was a relief to everyone who knew her.

But even Rose was not aware of the long sleepless nights and the sense of a world closing in so fast that it was almost suffocating her niece.

As had been so often the case, it was a sense of duty that came to Kate’s aid as she walked into the light and warmth at 17 Khyber Road. The single driving force of her life now was to try to limit the damage of her husband’s departure on Gus and Fiona.

Not that she had any sense they appreciated it. Her thirteen-year-old son was hunched over his iPad on the sofa in the corner of the kitchen. Kate gently removed the headphones from his ears (which, she could not help noticing, were full of wax). ‘What are you watching?’

‘Mission Impossible.’

‘Sounds like my life.’

He didn’t smile. ‘Is that a joke?’

She tutted in despair. ‘Where’s your sister?’

‘She went out.’

‘Where? I told her—’

‘That is a joke. She’s upstairs. With Jed.’

‘Oh. What time did he come around?’

‘About ten minutes ago.’

Kate went to put on the kettle. ‘What did you have for supper?’

‘Salmon, like you suggested.’

‘Did she eat her—’

‘I’m not going to be your snitch, Mum.’

Kate came to sit next to her son. ‘You know this is serious, right? They say anorexia is the hardest mental illness to treat.’

‘She isn’t anorexic.’

‘With respect, you’re not a doctor.’

‘And neither are you. If it’s so serious, why haven’t you taken her to see one?’

For all his detachment, Gus sometimes had a knack for putting his finger on the key question and she winced inwardly. She’d been asking herself the same question for some weeks. ‘Right now,’ she said, ‘what with everything else, I worry that it might actually make it worse, not better. I’m hoping if we can just keep her on the straight and narrow for a little longer, the pressure will ease off.’

‘You know that’s not how it works, right?’ Gus said.

‘What?’

‘Psychiatrists don’t make you worse. That’s not the point of them.’

Kate had no comeback to that. She kissed him thoughtfully, made a cup of tea and opened the bin to throw in the teabag. As she did so, she noticed the remains of what looked like an untouched piece of salmon fillet.

With a heavy heart, she went upstairs to knock on Fiona’s bedroom door. ‘We’re fully clothed,’ her daughter replied. Kate pushed back the door to see Fiona and her tall, rangy boyfriend lying in front of what appeared to be homework on Fiona’s bed. Jed leapt to his feet and came to kiss Kate on both cheeks. Despite his tattoos and piercings, Kate had come to be very fond of him over the past few months. She wondered sometimes what they would have done without him. It was almost as if he was the glue holding their family – or sanity – together.

‘Hi, love,’ Kate said.

‘Hi.’ Fiona didn’t move.

‘Did you manage to cook supper okay?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Have you eaten, Jed?’

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Henderson. I had supper at home. How was the rest of your day at work?’

‘Er, complicated, if I’m honest.’

Fiona’s demeanour suggested there was every chance she would continue to ignore her mother, so Kate retreated to her bedroom. She ran a bath and soaked in it, then contemplated once more how lonely she felt in the middle of the night – or at any time, for that matter.

She had one more task, so she reached for the house phone and dialled the number for Rose’s London home. It was a gorgeous four-bedroom townhouse just off the King’s Road, in a row characterized by many shades of pastel.

‘Is that you, Kate?’

‘How did you know?’

‘No one else calls this late.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘How was your trip?’

‘Oh . . .’ Kate realized she hadn’t had time to reflect upon the impact of seeing Stuart. ‘I don’t really know.’

‘How was he?’

‘Sad. A bit pathetic. He burst into tears on the children and told them both how much he hated his life in Moscow.’

‘Oh, God, how selfish. And bloody unhelpful.’

‘Yes . . . yes. I guess so.’

‘Was that all?’

‘Yes. Other than that, it went smoothly.’ Kate had learnt to her cost over the last six months that, in the house of secrets, it was better to keep knowledge to herself, even if Rose was the reason she had joined the Service in the first place. ‘Look, I’m so sorry to do this to you, but something’s come up that’s going to keep me in London this weekend, I think, so we’ll have to cry off the trip to Cornwall.’

‘That’s a shame. We were so looking forward to seeing the children.’

‘I know. I’m really sorry.’ Rose and her husband Simon had a newly built holiday home – a temple to oak and glass – between the beaches of Polzeath and Daymer Bay, one of Kate’s favourite places. As she thought of it, she realized she was disappointed too.

‘Why don’t you let us take them?’ Rose asked. ‘If you’re going to have to work, it doesn’t sound as if they’ll have much of a weekend. And, of course, there’s your mother. She’ll never let us forget it and I’m not sure I feel saintly enough to take her on our own.’

Kate thought about this.

‘It’s settled, then,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll drop by your office in the morning to work out the arrangements.’

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’d be fine. But . . . have you seen Dr Wiseman yet?’

‘No.’

‘Kate—’

‘I actually have an appointment tomorrow lunchtime.’ Kate had clean forgotten about it until then. And she had fully intended to cancel.

‘Well, go. Whatever else is happening, make sure you go. Please. Or I really won’t forgive you.’

‘All right, all right . . . Oh, one more thing.’ Kate bit her lip. ‘Any news on Lena’s sister?’

‘I’m still waiting for the report from Belgrade.’

‘What’s taking them so long?’ Kate had recruited Lena Sabic to work for the Service with the clear promise that they would free her young sister Maja from terrible circumstances in Serbia and bring her to England. Kate naturally felt Lena’s death reinforced this promise rather than freed them from its implications, but it was not a universal view, with the cost and complications of an extraction in danger of triggering a major row at the top of the Service. As head of Finance, Rose was overseeing the operation, at Kate’s behest. At least she would have one ally when it came to the crunch.

‘It’s complicated, Kate, you know that. I’ll chase it up in the morning. In the meantime, get some sleep – and make sure you see Dr Wiseman.’

Kate replaced the receiver. Although she had been seeing a counsellor for months, sometimes singly, sometimes with the children, Rose had insisted the change to a psychiatrist was what she needed now.

Kate’s phone buzzed and she picked it up to see a message from Suzy, sent via the secure in-house service they used amongst colleagues: Julie just told me about the potential video. Jesus, what a fucking sleaze bucket. Am sorry, but you are absolutely right. You have to follow it up.

Kate put her phone face down and switched off her bedside light. She stared at the ceiling, thinking of the phone call with Rose. There was no way she’d see Dr Wiseman tomorrow. It felt too much like opening Pandora’s Box.