She must have seen my surprise and tapped her temple with a forefinger. ‘Never forget a name, never forget a face.’
For one moment I almost asked her if she knew anyone called Bee Thatcher but then thought better of it. The person who had all the answers I needed was just minutes away from telling me what the hell had been going on for the last few months.
Henry was in his apartment, or so the receptionist told me. I must have clearly passed some kind of test, because she simply gave me directions on how to find it, rather than get someone to escort me.
The new apartments were in a different block, but easy enough to find. Henry’s was on the second floor and I took my time climbing the stairs, ignoring the lift that would have got me there faster. I still had no idea what I was going to say, but perhaps it was better if I simply let him do the talking.
I heard his voice through the thickness of his apartment door as he responded to my knock.
‘I’m coming,’ he called out. ‘Give me a moment.’
I used the time it took him to reach the door to concentrate on my breathing. By the time I heard the Yale lock being opened, I was almost in control of my nerves.
‘Ellie. What an unexpected delight.’
He looked so genuinely happy to see me that I immediately felt guilty that I was being every bit as deceitful as I feared he’d been with me.
‘You’re walking better,’ I said, noting he’d made it to the door without needing to use the stick.
‘It was never as bad as it looked,’ he said, taking a step backwards into his hallway and beckoning me in. ‘Please come in.’
I stepped across the threshold, feeling unsettled. He really didn’t seem any different than usual.
‘Can I get you something to drink? I could make us both a coffee, although it won’t be a patch on the ones you bring to the cemetery.’
I was glad he’d said that, because it brought my focus back to the place where we knew each other best. Or at least I’d thought we had.
‘No thanks, Henry.’
Perhaps I wasn’t as good at concealing my emotions as I thought, because he was looking at me with a curiosity that hadn’t been there when he’d found me on his doorstep.
‘Shall we sit down?’ I directed, as though I was the host here.
Something stirred in his eyes. Was that guilt or nerves? It was hard to say for sure.
I waited until he was safely seated before I began. I didn’t want to be responsible for him tumbling to the ground in shock. I might have been taken for a ride, but the fondness I felt for him hadn’t disappeared.
‘I bought some pink roses today,’ I began.
Henry nodded, encouraging me to continue.
‘I asked the florist if she knew of ones called Bee’s Delight. But sadly, she didn’t.’
All the muscles in Henry’s face seemed to have frozen.
‘I thought I’d surprise you by laying them on your wife’s grave. But guess what? I couldn’t find it.’
There was such an expression of regret in Henry’s eyes that I hesitated then, unsure if I had the stomach to finish this.
‘It turns out there isn’t anyone buried in the cemetery called Bee Thatcher. Why is that, Henry? Why couldn’t I find your wife’s grave?’
The room was silent except for the ticking of a carriage clock on the mantelpiece.
Henry sat up straighter in his chair and carefully folded his hands in his lap. Today they weren’t trembling. But mine were.
‘Because my wife was never buried. She was cremated and her ashes were scattered on the beach near where she grew up. Caroline always loved the sea.’
‘Caroline?’ It felt like the room was a fairground ride and what I’d thought was up was suddenly and inexplicably down. ‘Who is Caroline?’