The Warning by Sophie Hannah

how much we can guess.”
    “Apparently,” says Simon bitterly. This is unbelievable. He’s angry with us for not being mind readers.
    “So Tom got fired. So what?” I say. “I don’t care. Who hasn’t been fired at some point or another?” I haven’t, but that’s beside the point. I can pretend I have if necessary. If that’s what I have to do to stand by Tom, I’ll do it. “Did he get fired for pretending to have a food allergy?”
    “What the ever-loving fuck?” Lorna whirls around to face me. “Where did that come from?’
    “No. What makes you say that?” Simon asks me.
    “Nothing. Forget it.”
    “Come on.” Abruptly, Simon stands up. “No, not all of you. Just Chloe. We’re going to see Nadine Caspian. You need to hear her story. Until you do, you won’t understand. It’s not going to be easy for her to tell it, or for you to believe it, but it’s the only way.”

 
    Chapter 15
    H ALF AN HOUR later, Simon and I are outside Nadine Caspian’s house: a beige newly constructed three-story that some might call a terrace and some a maisonette.
    “Ready?” says Simon.
    I nod. Yes, I’m ready, but for what?
    He rings the bell, then stands and stares at it, as if expecting it to reply to him directly.
    I’m wearing my engagement ring on my wedding finger because he told me to. I didn’t want to without knowing why, but I did it. I don’t want to have to see or speak to Nadine Caspian, but here I am: bribed by the promise that soon I will know everything.
    Without warning, tears fill my eyes—tears that have to be gone by the time Nadine opens the door or Simon turns to look at me, whichever happens first. I blink frantically. Squeeze my eyes shut. Better.
    I hate this. Not only the doubt surrounding Tom, but also I hate that this used to be my thing to wonder about—my problem, mine alone—and I seem to have handed over control to . . . well, to everybody. I’m not in charge of anything, least of all myself, and I want to be. If I were braver I’d take Freya and disappear to somewhere far away from Lorna, Simon the peculiar policeman, Nadine Caspian . . . I don’t want any of these people in my life, so why are they?
    Don’t be silly—Lorna’s your best friend.
    And Tom? Do you want him in your life?
    Yes, I do. Whoever he is, whatever he’s done, I want him. I love him. I’m also frightened that loving him might be about to get harder. So far, I’ve been able to present a defense based on my belief in his innocence, but what if that’s about to change? What if he did something truly terrible, and there are no mitigating circumstances, and I don’t stop loving him? I’m worried that, if that happens, I won’t be able to defend myself.
    “Come on,” Simon breathes, pressing the bell again.
    “She might be out,” I say, and he looks affronted.
    My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen. “It’s a text from Tom,” I say.
    “Show me.”
    Of course: my fiancé might be a dangerous sociopath, so from now on I must hand over all private messages to the police.
    I pass my phone to Simon. Tom has sent a photo of himself sitting at a table—it looks as if it might be the CamEgo staff canteen—with a salmon fillet on a plate in front of him. His message says, “See? No fish allergy! T xx”
    “Text back as if nothing’s wrong,” says Simon. I flinch at what this must mean. “It’s some kind of joke, so be jokey in your response. Send kisses back—whatever you’d normally do. You’re his trusting fiancée as far as he’s concerned, so act like it.”
    Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.
    I start to compose a message to Tom: “Fish on plate, not in mouth—not proof of eating! Pictures or it didn’t happen, as my friend Lorna would say. C xx”
    “Wait—she’s coming.” Simon moves closer to the door. “I heard something moving inside.” He presses the bell a third time. “Let me see that before you send it.”
    Too numb to do