Nell #2
He’s skied with you every day and there is so much rage inside me at times that I can hardly bear to speak to you when we meet up in the evenings.
But I am good at hiding my feelings. Alex, not so much.
I can see he’s beginning to resent you, because I watch him so closely.
This morning, when we all went to ski off-piste leaving him on the slopes with you, there was a look of real frustration on his face.
But last night, you were making plans to see him next week in Washington and he seemed to be agreeing so maybe I’ve got it wrong and he likes you enough to continue the relationship.
It’s our last day tomorrow, so I need to act fast.
It’s fine, I’m ready. Tonight, I’ll whisper in your ear that out of fairness, because he has stayed by your side the whole week, you should let Alex ski with us on our last day.
You’re a people pleaser, so I know you’ll agree.
And once we set off, I’ll double back and find you.
Nobody will suspect me. I had intended to show off my excellent skiing skills to impress Alex but as soon as he turned up with you, Caitlin, I decided to keep them hidden until Alex and I are finally together.
I know he’ll be thrilled to have a partner who’s a first-class skier, even if it means that I’m better than him.
He’s good but Victor is better and I could beat the pants off Victor in a race. That’s how good I am.
There’s no entry detailing how she maneuvered Caitlin into the ravine, just an almost childish entry the next day:
Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
I close the notebook and go to join Alex at the window, sliding my arm around his waist.
“There was no reason for Caitlin to die,” he says, his voice bleak. “I was going to break things off when we got back to Washington. If I’d told Béatrice, she might have told Inès and then Caitlin would still be alive. That’s what I can’t get over.”
He can’t bring himself to read the third notebook, which is about Ariane.
I read the first few pages and am quickly sickened by Inès’s rage toward a beautiful young woman simply because she was in a relationship with Alex.
But there’s a part of me that pities Inès.
As Béatrice had already told me, Alex spent some weeks with her and Victor after Ariane’s death and it’s clear from the notebook that Inès believed she and Alex had a future together.
Béatrice says she’s relying on me to cheer Alex up as he’s still so upset about Ariane.
She says I make him smile, that he brightens up when she tells him I’m coming over.
I know she’ll be happy when Alex and I get together.
She told me today that I’m perfect for him because we have so much in common.
She was referring to our taste in music, in films, in everything.
If only she knew how hard I’ve worked to find out every little thing about him, through listening and discreet questioning, and pretend that I have exactly the same interests.
I know more about him than anyone else does, which is why he finds me such easy company.
Béatrice is right, I’m perfect for him and it won’t be long before he realizes it too.
“Did you?” I ask him. “Find Inès easy company?”
Alex looks up from reading the last notebook, Notebook 4, which I’ve guessed is about me.
“Yes, I did. We liked the same things and she had a great sense of humor. But I never thought of her as anything other than a friend and I never thought she saw me as anything other than a friend. That’s what’s so strange. How did I miss the signs?”
“Because she controlled her emotions too well?” I hazard.
I go back to the notebook I’m reading. “I actually feel sorry for her. There was a dinner at Béatrice and Victor’s and she was expecting it to be just the four of you.
It was after Caitlin died and, according to Inès, she’d spent quite a bit of time in your company, so she thought she was getting somewhere. Then you turn up with Ariane.”
“I remember that evening,” he says, “because we’d barely arrived before Inès ran to the bathroom.
She was there for a while and Béatrice kept going to check on her to see if she was okay.
When she finally came out, she looked terrible.
She said it must have been something she’d eaten the previous evening and Victor ordered a cab to take her home. ”
“Seeing you with Ariane made her physically sick,” I say.
“It’s all here on the page, the rage and betrayal she felt.
The next day she contacts you and asks for Ariane’s number, saying she wants to apologize to her for leaving the dinner so abruptly when she’d only just been introduced to her.
In reality, she wanted to befriend her and stalk her. ”
“And then kill her.” Alex’s voice is a mix of bitterness and anguish. “The frenzy of the attack still haunts me. I can’t believe a woman could be so filled with rage toward another woman that she could kill her in such a violent manner.”
“She lost control. She says it herself. It was the night Ariane told her you were going to get married. She had planned to get rid of Ariane, but not that night and not in that way. Remember what the police told us, about all the research she did into how to kill someone with a single stab wound and how to leave as little trace behind as possible?”
“Except that it’s almost impossible to leave no trace,” Alex says. “She was lucky that Ariane was working for the DGSE and that the police presumed she’d been killed because of her job and didn’t ask too many questions. They just let the DGSE get on with it.”
I move to sit next to him. “What I don’t understand is how she could afford everything. The tennis club at Hyde Park, the lovely flat, the skiing trips—even learning the skills she needed to be able to cut the electricity supply to the house and pick the locks. It must have cost a lot.”
“Family money. She told Béatrice she had a trust fund which matured when she was twenty-five,” Alex says. “Did she tell you about her family?”
“Only that she was an only child. Was that a lie too?”
“No. Her father’s a diplomat and so was his father before him.
Her mother’s a well-known French socialite but Inès barely knew them.
She was sent to boarding school in England when she was seven years old and before that, she was brought up by a succession of nannies.
” He closes his notebook. “I’m done,” he says. ‘I don’t want to read any more.’
“I’m not sure I want to read it,” I say. “Not if it’s about me.”
“It’s certainly taught me a lot about you.” He turns to me. “Did you really think that I might be a spy?”
“Is that what it says?” I ask. He nods. “Okay, I admit, I did wonder at one point.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t really know me very well, do you?”
I reach up and kiss him. “To be fair, we hadn’t spent a lot of time together. And most of it had been pretty fraught.”
“It’s fine, I forgive you.”
“Thank you.” This time I kiss him for longer.
“And tell me, are you really learning French?” he asks.
“Does it say that too?”
He nods gravely. “It does. I did wonder how you were managing to read the notebooks.”
“I wanted it to be a secret. I know your mother speaks perfect English but I thought she might like me a little better if I can speak French.”
“My mother will love you anyway, but I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re learning my language.”
“Good,” I say, leaning into him. “If you’ve finished reading, can we go to bed now?”
“We can. But first, I just have one more question arising from what I read.”
“Go on, then.”
He wraps his arms around me. “How many children do you think we should have?” he asks.