De Payns opened a bottle of riesling from the fridge and from the corner of his eye watched Patrick shut the dishwasher door.
‘Forget something?’ he asked his oldest son, nodding at a pile of dishes in the sink.
Patrick shrugged. ‘Dishwasher’s full.’
Putting down the wine bottle, de Payns opened the dishwasher and saw a chaotic jumble of plates and glasses. ‘Plenty of room in there, mon fils. Just stack them closer together.’
Patrick sighed. ‘Do I have to?’
‘It’ll only take you a minute and then you’re free.’
Patrick’s mutterings followed de Payns as he picked up the wine bottle and walked into the living room and sat on the sofa with Romy.
‘You were saying,’ she said as he poured them each a glass of wine. ‘The doctor?’
‘It’s going really well,’ he said, affecting a sincere smile. ‘I’m booked into monthly sessions and I’m really happy with the progress.’
She looked at him slightly too long. ‘What happened to the shrink can end my career?’
He sipped the wine. ‘She can also help me to get well. I’m focusing on that part.’
Romy made a face that said she needed some convincing. ‘What did you talk about?’
‘I’m not supposed to go into details …’
‘In general terms.’
‘Well, you know, my stress levels and sleeping. A chat about fatigue and paranoia and how those two can feed one another.’
‘Any advice about how to stop the paranoia?’
De Payns stayed serene. ‘Everything you know about. Avoid becoming fatigued, get good sleep, immerse myself in non-work-related things.’
‘What about your marriage?’
De Payns took a breath. The last time they’d traversed this terrain, in Deauville, he’d been ambushed and had reacted poorly. ‘Yes, we went over that.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s really great to be able to talk about my feelings …’
‘Screw your feelings,’ she snapped. ‘Everyone’s got feelings. Not everyone’s in this marriage.’
De Payns nodded and took another sip. ‘I told her that things don’t work so well when I have to go away and you can’t contact me, and I can’t tell you what I’m doing.’
‘That won’t change,’ she said. ‘Does she have advice for when my husband stalks around the house at three in the morning, looking for terrorists?’
‘Look, Romy—’
‘Or perhaps a safety word for when he decides to beat someone half to death in front of his kids?’
De Payns nodded. He wasn’t going to be defensive. ‘That was terrible. I’m so sorry I did that …’
‘The gun, Alec,’ she whispered, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s not the first time you’ve carried it around in the middle of the night, but it’s the first time that I thought you might … you know.’
‘That will never happen,’ he said, feeling some deep emotions. ‘I couldn’t do that to you, to the boys.’
‘What does the doctor say?’
De Payns paused, instinctively wanting to dissemble. But he knew he couldn’t. ‘She says you saw what you saw and you were scared, and I can’t ignore that.’
‘You think?’
‘Look, I’ve been stressed—really tired and paranoid—but I’m working on it,’ he said, trying to hold back the tide of emotion and reluctant to raise Degarde’s death. ‘One thing you could do is maybe refrain from talking about me with Ana, until I’m well.’
‘Ana is like a sister to me,’ Romy said, voice flat and uncompromising. ‘If not for her, you and I …’ She shrugged.
De Payns gulped. ‘Just pull it back a little?’
‘Has it occurred to you that secrecy only makes it worse?’ she said. ‘My God, have you ever heard women talk about their husbands? The whole thing is details.’
De Payns rubbed his face with his hand. He was worn out and worried about having to go to Azerbaijan. He couldn’t operate professionally in the field if he thought his home life was a leaky boat. ‘Give me two months,’ he said, aware that his eyes were damp. ‘I’m going to turn this around, but I need to know that I’m solid at home. Can you give me that?’
She nodded once, short and sharp. ‘There’s only one alternative to you getting yourself well, and I’m not there yet.’
De Payns exhaled. That would do for now.