‘Come in, Simon,’ Dr Nobel said as she held the door open with a welcoming smile.

‘Thanks.’ Simon failed to hold the eye contact, his gaze sweeping the familiar walls of books, the window surrounded by potted plants and one of his earliest sunset sky paintings hanging behind the desk. ‘Sorry for showing up so suddenly.’

‘You know you’re always welcome here,’ Dr Nobel said.

Simon wished he didn’t need that kind of reassurance, but today he did. He glanced up at Dr Nobel as he sat down on her leather sofa and was struck, as he was every time he saw her, by how kind she looked. She had snow white hair cut into a bob that usually brushed her shoulders. Today she’d tied it back in a ponytail. Her face was round and fair with rosy cheeks, and she had blue eyes that could look vague or drill right through you.

Simon shuddered as the memory of his first meeting with Dr Nobel hit him with the force of a high-speed train. The police had smashed down the door to his father’s house in the middle of the night. Not being found out was something Gregory Black obsessed about. All his instructions revolved around what Simon could or couldn’t do to ensure their safety.

So he acted on instinct as the cries of ‘Police, nobody move,’ followed the splintering of the door.

Simon rolled out of bed, slipped underneath and curled into a terrified ball against the wall at the headboard end. He’d held his breath as his bedroom door swung open and the light flicked on.

‘Holy crap,’ somebody muttered. ‘Kid’s room, we’ve got a kid’s room,’ the man shouted.

‘Does he have a kid?’ somebody else asked.

‘It would have to be a fucking disturbed one,’ the first voice said and Simon watched a pair of laced up black boots approach his bed. ‘Still warm.’

Then a torch flashed under the bed, dazzling Simon so he couldn’t see who was holding it.

‘Shit, there’s a kid down here!’

Simon had expected to be hauled out from under the bed, the way his father did when he was enraged. But the torch and feet disappeared and nothing happened for what felt like an eternity.

Then Dr Nobel had arrived, looking the same as she did now and sat down on the floor, her back against the side of his bed.

‘I’m Dr Helen Nobel,’ she’d said. ‘What’s your name?’

Simon had been so terrified he couldn’t speak, torn between his dread of what his father might say to him later and what the police would do to him now.

‘You’re quite the artist, aren’t you?’ Dr Nobel had said, waving her arm to encompass the walls of Simon’s room.

He’d covered them in drawings from the floor up to the height of his reach. Later, he’d learned that forensic scientists had photographed every inch of the walls and they had used his images in Gregory Black’s trial. Simon hadn’t drawn for that reason, but he’d pretty much recorded everything he’d seen and done with his father.

He was processing his thoughts, Dr Nobel had told him years later. It was something people did when they didn’t have the words from lack of experience or ability to talk about what they had been through. She’d encouraged him to carry on drawing and, especially in the early years, they had communicated that way, Simon explaining what his various sketches meant.

‘So what happened?’ Dr Nobel asked, bringing Simon back to the present.

He took a deep breath, drawing together his scattered thoughts. ‘I hit a brick wall.’

‘Come again?’

‘Remember when I told you I no longer needed therapy? You said that I shouldn’t throw away your number?’

‘You said you were doing fine and didn’t need my help anymore.’

‘Was I too cocky?’

‘Not at all. I’m always pleased when my patients feel confident enough to face the world without me.’

‘But you said at the time that one day I might hit a brick wall and then I should call you.’

‘I’m glad you remembered. So what is this particular brick wall?’

Simon clasped his hands in his lap because they’d started to shake and stopped his right leg from bouncing. It was hard to come to the point.

‘I got arrested.’ Dr Nobel looked so astonished that Simon hurriedly added. ‘No, I was, “helping the police with their enquiries”.’

‘Good Lord, why?’

‘A colleague went missing. They’ve found her now. She had an accident. Nothing to do with me. But till they found her… I don’t know if they figured out who I was… they didn’t say anything about that and I didn’t either. But… sitting in the interrogation room.’ Simon couldn’t go on and dropped his gaze to the red and blue Persian rug.

‘I imagine that brought back a lot of unpleasant memories,’ Dr Nobel said.

It was the king of understatements.

‘It isn’t only that. What will my colleagues think of the fact that they hauled me into the station?’

‘Will the colleague who vanished be back at work too?’

‘I don’t know… she was hospitalised.’

‘Ah, then it may take a while. I’m sure they will be more sympathetic over what you went through than anything else. Either way, you don’t need to worry about them. As far as they are concerned, you are merely a designer with as simple a life history as their own. Have they ever asked you about your life?’

‘Less than I expected. I stuck with the story we came up with that I was orphaned at fourteen and grew up in a home after that.’

‘It is mostly true,’ Dr Nobel said. ‘Fabrications are best if they contain an element of truth. There was no point in pretending you had a normal childhood.’

Simon nodded. The orphan part was true: his father had committed suicide within months of being sentenced to life imprisonment. Dr Nobel had come straight to see him at the young offender’s institute to tell him about it and provide support.

He’d been more affected by the monster’s death than he’d expected. He’d been filled with a strange mixture of relief and pain that he still couldn’t understand.

‘You look exhausted,’ Dr Nobel said, her voice softening.

‘I couldn’t sleep after…’

‘I’ll give you a prescription for the anxiety. It will help you sleep. Don’t take too many and only when you feel they’re necessary.’

Simon nodded. It was what the doctor always told him, and he tried to abide by her guidelines.

‘And you should eat more. I’m worried about how thin you’ve got.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Don’t try. Do,’ Dr Nobel said back to her firm doctor’s voice. ‘Now tell me about the rest of your life. Are you still creating your wonderful sky paintings?’

***

‘What do you think?’ Sarah asked as she did a slow graceful walk around the fitting room, showing off her lacy, ivory wedding dress that glowed in the sun coming through the tall sash windows.

‘Beautiful,’ Jaq said, suppressing a twinge of jealousy.

Was she ever going to be a bride, or was she doomed to always be the bridesmaid? Not that she intended to have a traditional wedding. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself, anyway. She was here to support Sarah.

The seamstress, who’d been watching from a distance, gave a happy nod and said, ‘It’s all fitting perfectly now. So whatever you do, don’t lose any more weight, or your dress will look baggy.’

Sarah gave a guilty nod, and Jaq grinned at her. Sarah had been dieting so religiously that they’d not even met up for a coffee after the engagement party.

‘Okay, no more dieting,’ Sarah promised the seamstress as she followed her out to the changing room.

Jaq doubted it and even though Sarah was probably within the normal weight range, she knew her best friend well enough to know she’d continue starving herself until the wedding. Now she leaned back as much as she could on the elegant velvet chair reserved for friends and family to attend the fittings, and her eyes ran along the rungs and rungs of dresses in all possible shades of white. Most seemed to be ballgown style, and very frothy. A few were the more figure hugging sheath like dresses that Jaq favoured.

She couldn’t sit still so strolled over to get a closer look and pretend she was buying a dress. It was a ridiculous waste of money. Why pay thousands of pounds for a dress you were only ever going to wear once?

Her sister’s dress, a beautiful creation, now occupied an inordinate amount of space at the end of her wardrobe where its plastic cover had still not protected it from the grubby fingers of her four-year-old nephew. He was soon to be joined by a sister, so even less chance of wearing a beautiful wedding dress then.

Maybe that was also why Jaq was feeling like she was running out of time. Not only her older sister, but even some of her friends had started to have kids. She was way behind them, and feeling more left out by the day.

Maybe this was why she’d agreed to meet up with Rob, Sarah and Aaron this evening for a couple’s dinner. It felt far too early for something like that, especially since she hadn’t had a chance to ask why Sarah had rolled her eyes about Rob.

Since it was fresh in her mind, she said the moment Sarah emerged from the changing rooms, back in her casual weekend attire, ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’

‘You have?’ Sarah asked, her expression turning to one of mild confusion as she tried to work out what she’d done wrong.

‘You gave me a signal about Rob at your drinks do, and now you’ve set up this couple’s date, so I don’t know what to think.’

‘Oh,’ Sarah said, and she blushed rosily as she linked her arm in Jaq’s and led her out of the shop and down the narrow stairs, onto the Kensington street. ‘Let’s get a coffee and I’ll explain. It’s too early to be meeting the guys, anyway.’

‘And you’ll be drinking it black,’ Jaq said with a laugh.

‘I know, I know. I was told not to lose any more weight, but honestly, I’m terrified of gaining what I’ve lost between now and the wedding and not being able to get into the dress at all.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Jaq said and made her way to a decent-looking coffee shop that had the virtues of not being a chain and having table service. ‘Now spill.’

Sarah settled at right angles to Jaq and gave a slight shrug.

‘Rob is Aaron’s friend. That’s why you were invited. Aaron is playing matchmaker.’

‘Because?’

‘Because Rob is also desperate for a partner. He’s been alternating between teasing Aaron about getting married and begging Aaron to set him up with one of my friends.’

‘So why don’t you like Rob?’

‘Rob’s a little… how do I explain? He’s always the best, I guess. Since he’s a man, they’re better than women, since he’s living in London it’s the greatest city in the world, since he plays rugby it’s the best sport and anyone who does anything else for exercise is wasting their time.’

‘In other words, he’s full of himself.’

Sarah shrugged in grudging agreement, then ordered her black coffee while Jaq got a latte.

‘He’s a very good salesman, and they have to project an air of confidence and make you feel good about buying whatever he’s selling. It can make them all rather arrogant.’

‘Even Aaron?’ Jaq said, because she couldn’t resist teasing her.

‘Just a bit. But Aaron is always at the top of the sales league, so he’s less boastful.’

‘Ah well. I guess I’ll see what I think after today’s dinner,’ Jaq said, and went back to contemplating the foam on her coffee. ‘Can I ask you a question about Simon White?’

‘Simon? I thought you weren’t interested in him. It would be a waste of time, even if you were.’

‘All the same, I’m curious,’ Jaq said, glancing at the surrounding tables. It was a quiet afternoon with only a handful of people, mostly women. ‘What is he like as an employee? You’re his boss, aren’t you?’

‘He’s excellent,’ Sarah said without hesitation. ‘The best designer we’ve got, and it’s not just because he can draw well. He understands our client’s briefs and does things with the brief that just leave the rest of us in awe. My work always looks okay until I compare it to Simon’s, then I feel so pedestrian.’

‘I always thought you were hugely talented. And at least you have people skills.’

‘Oh… Simon has those, too. He isn’t shy. I like taking him along to client meetings because he’s perfectly comfortable dealing with people on all levels and he won’t let people push him around.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I guess… it’s the opposite of Rob, who’s always bragging about his achievements. Simon will listen and smile politely when people brag, but he doesn’t engage in the willy waving that sometimes goes on with men. He defers to me in meetings, but also makes it clear he expects the other men in the room to do the same. It’s hard to describe exactly, but he’s got an inner strength that most men don’t have. It’s a kind of take it or leave it attitude.’

‘Really? He didn’t seem that way when we took him in,’ Jaq said, genuinely surprised.

Then again, Simon had been quite clear about not wanting her to help him out at home.

‘I’m not surprised with you. You hauled him in for questioning. Who on earth could take that in their stride?’

‘So there’s nothing that puts you on edge about him?’

‘Jaq… what is this really about? You’re starting to sound like you’re interrogating me.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing, never mind.’

It worried Jaq that her best friend was working with somebody with such a troubled past, but confidentiality meant she couldn’t say anything. If Simon really was reformed and not a threat to anyone, it was unfair to him, too.

‘Is there something I should know about Simon?’ Sarah asked, looking genuinely concerned.

‘No, don’t worry. I just wondered since he was so nervous at the interview.’

‘He took the week off too,’ Sarah said. ‘Even though he books his holidays at the beginning of the year and had everything allocated. So I knew something was wrong. You weren’t really horrible to him, were you?’

‘Of course not.’

Sarah rarely asked Jaq about her work, probably because she knew how difficult it could be, and she was too kindhearted to hear about how suspects were treated. Detective shows sometimes had the protagonist try to set people’s minds at ease.

In reality, she couldn’t even do that for victims, lest they were involved. She had to remain objective and withhold her empathy. She couldn’t offer false hope or even give off sympathetic body language. It was harsh, but it was necessary.