Free The Memory Game by Nicci French Page A

and didn't have any children. I could suddenly decide in the evening to go out and see a movie or have a drink in a bar. Perhaps, occasionally, I meet a woman at a party and I think, if I were single, I could have an affair with her and it would be so exciting. But if I suddenly found myself single, it wouldn't be like that at all. Maybe I'd have an initial bit of euphoria. I might even have one or two sexual experiences. But I doubt whether it would be as much fun as I had anticipated. And then all the things I was used to, the reassurance of seeing people I know when I go home, all that would be gone. It would be hard.'
    'I thought I was supposed to do all the talking.'
    Alex laughed again. 'Who says? You've probably been reading too much Freud. I wouldn't pay too much attention to a man who psychoanalysed both himself and his own daughter if I were you. Anyway, not only do you have all that to deal with but you have a perfectly clear family tragedy as well. You have a perfect right to be unhappy for a while. Do you want me to wave a wand and take it away from you?'
    'That sounds tempting.'
    'Let me give you a very glib diagnosis, Jane, and it's on the house. I think you're a strong woman and you don't like to feel you can't cope, you don't want people to feel sorry for you. That's the problem. My comment is : life is painful. Allow yourself to give way to that. You could talk to me, of course, but you could also spend your money in other ways. You could have a weekly massage, have some nice meals in restaurants, go on holiday somewhere hot.'
    It was my turn to laugh. 'Now that really is tempting.'
    We were both smiling and there was a rather embarrassing pause. It was the sort of pause that in other circumstances I might have thought of dispelling by kissing Alex.
    'Alex, I hate saying "but seriously?"... But seriously, I had this talk last night with my brother, who, incidentally, has got this deranged idea of making a film about the family, so you'll soon probably be able to learn all about my problems by watching BBC 2 , and Paul - that's my brother's name - was talking about our golden childhood. I've always had this image of our golden childhood as well but as he was talking in this nostalgic way there was something inside me that was saying no, no, no. Over the last few days I've been preoccupied with an image. It must be all to do with Natalie being found. But I've been thinking about my golden, golden childhood and a black hole in the middle of it, and I can't get a grip on it and I don't know what it is. Somehow it's there, always on the edge of vision but when I turn to look at it directly it's gone, gone to the edge again. I'm sorry, I'm probably not making sense. It hardly makes sense even to me. If you can imagine it, I'm listening to myself talking as a way of trying to understand. Perhaps what I'm asking is for you to trust me when I feel that there is something worth looking for behind all this.'
    As I made this long, incoherent speech, I looked down at the table and when I finished looked up, almost scared of catching Alex's eyes. He was frowning, with a look of alert concentration that I hadn't seen before.
    'You may be right,' he said, almost muttering it.
    He took my mug and his and put them in the sink. Instead of returning to his chair he began to pace up and down. I didn't know whether I should say anything but decided not. Finally, he sat down again.
    'You've probably got false ideas about the process of therapy. You may have seen films in which someone's psychological problem is dramatically solved. You may have friends who are addicted to analysis and they talk to you about the wonderful insight it's given them into their problems and how much happier it's made them. It may have done, but if you've spent three hours a week for five years and twenty grand, then you've got a vested interest in its success.'
    'Well, why...?'
    Alex held up his hand to silence me. 'You do interest me, Jane. I think we