Laurence’s mouth drops open. ‘That’s a lie. And anyway, how the hell would she know what’s in my search history? She’s obviously clutching at straws now to break us up.’ His eyes are darting left and right, I can see his brain working.
‘She told me she still had a key to the apartment, and that she let herself in while we were out. She said she looked at your laptop.’
‘She didwhat?’ Laurence scrapes back his chair and gets to his feet. His face is white.
My heart hammers at his reaction. ‘She told me your password was “Volition91”.’
‘That’s just out of order!’ He walks over to the kitchen counter where his phone is charging and unplugs it. ‘I’m calling her.’
‘Is that actually your password?’ I ask, standing up, my hands resting on the tabletop for support.
‘It used to be. I change my password every month.’
So that explains why I couldn’t get in.I’m not going to tell Laurence that I also tried to get into his laptop. He’s angry enough already.
‘How the hell did she find out my password?’ he snaps.
I ask the obvious. ‘Is it written down somewhere?’
The colour rises in his cheeks. ‘I’m such an idiot,’ he mutters, holding his phone to his ear. His expression darkens as the call goes through:
‘Francesca? ... What the hell do you think you’re doing telling Alice all these lies about me? ... No, I’m not going to ...’ He huffs while she talks at him. ‘Can you just listen to me for a minute ... Well, what do you expect? You broke into the flat and went through my computer! ... No, absolutely not! Don’t even ...’
Laurence glares at his phone in frustration, then slams it down on the counter. He takes in a heaving breath and runs both hands through his hair with a deep growl of frustration. Of anger. ‘She hung up on me!’
‘Well, I’m not surprised. You were yelling at her down the phone.’ I straighten up and turn to look at him properly.
‘I can’t believe she broke in here and went through my stuff!’ he cries.
I feel like he’s missing the point of all this. ‘I’m more bothered about what she found, than about her breaking in,’ I reply. ‘I want to get to the bottom of this. I want to know if she’s telling the truth.’
‘Don’t tell me you actuallybelieveher.’
I don’t reply, but right now I actuallyamstarting to believe her. Laurence’s reaction has been shifty and angry. He hasn’t exactly proved her wrong.
‘She broke into our home!’
‘Is she right about your search history?’ I ask, chewing my thumbnail.
‘What? No, of course not. Why would I look up all that stuff? I don’t even practise hypnotherapy.’
‘But you studied it, right?’
‘I did a course a few years ago.’
I shake my head. ‘You never told me about that.’
‘There’s lots of work stuff I don’t tell you. Just like there’s probably lots of work stuff you don’t tell me. You’ve gained other accounting qualifications, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Exactly. I can’t even believe she’s managed to make you doubt me like this.’
I pause. There’s something I want to ask him, even though I know that if I say it, it could ruin our relationship forever. But this is too important a thing to ignore. In fact, if Laurence is innocent, then he should be happy to answer. If not ... well, I don’t even want to think about that. So I open my mouth and ask the question. ‘Would you mind if we look at your search history?’
Laurence’s expression goes blank and he shakes his head, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. ‘I can’t actually believe you’re asking me to prove myself.’
‘It’s not like that,’ I reply.
