The Other Woman’s House by Sophie Hannah

‘Crazy doesn’t have to mean made up. Insanity’s as real as sanity. It doesn’t need our understanding in order to fuck up and end lives – it only needs to understand itself. Sometimes it doesn’t even need that.’ Immediately, Sam wished he hadn’t remembered the comment; with it came the memory of yet another instance of Simon being proved right and him wrong, despite his more sensible belief in what had seemed so much more likely.
    He sighed. As Simon’s temporary stand-in, he would do everything he could to find a dead woman that he didn’t believe in – a woman in a green and lilac dress. He’d already put in a call to Cambridge police and made it clear to them that he expected them to take action, once they’d stopped laughing.
    â€˜Sam?’
    He looked up and saw a woman with cropped peroxide blonde hair, maroon plastic-framed glasses and shiny London-bus-red lipstick. She was wearing a long pink sleeveless dress and flat gold sandals, carrying a bag with holes in it that looked as if it was made from lots of offcuts of rope knotted together; the holes were a design feature, not the result of wear and tear, and enabled Sam to see some of the bag’s contents: a red wallet, an envelope, some keys.
    â€˜Alice Bean.’ She smiled and held out her hand. ‘You have no idea how weird this is for me. I haven’t set foot in this place for nearly seven years. If I have a funny turn, you’ll know why.’
    â€˜Can I get you a drink?’ Sam asked, shaking her hand.
    â€˜Lime cordial and lemonade would be lovely. Lots of ice. I know it’s a kid’s drink, but in this heat, nothing else will do. I must have sweated at least a pint in the car on the way here.’
    Sam watched her out of the corner of his eye as he queued at the bar. She was undeniably pretty, but the hair had surprised him – its shortness and its colour. And the maroon glasses, and the lipstick most of all. He wouldn’t have thought Simon would…But that was assuming she’d looked the same seven years ago, and that Simon’s taste in women would be easy to predict. Why should it be, when nothing else about him was? He’d proposed marriage to Charlie when she wasn’t even his girlfriend.
    â€˜So Connie gave you my number?’ Alice said as Sam put her drink down on the table in front of her.
    â€˜She didn’t. I didn’t ask her for it. I looked you up in the
Yellow Pages
, under “Alternative Health – Homeopaths”. There were no Alice Fancourts, but I figured Alice Bean might work, and it did.’
    â€˜Bean’s my maiden name. I haven’t been Fancourt for years.’
    â€˜Do you normally work Saturdays?’
    â€˜No. I wasn’t working today. I popped into the centre to pick up a remedy for my daughter, Florence, who’s got a tummy bug. You were lucky to catch me. And I hope you don’t catch the bug, but you might, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. I had it before Florence and everyone at work had it before me. It’s a spreader, that’s for sure. Passes out of your system quickly, though, on the plus side. Twenty-four hours of vomiting and diarrhoea and then it moves on to the next poor sucker.’
    Great. Something to look forward to.
    â€˜I won’t keep you long,’ Sam told her. ‘If your daughter’s ill.’
    â€˜She’ll be fine. She’s with my friend Briony, who’s like a second mum to her. Keep me as long as you like. I promise not to make it hard for you by asking awkward questions.’
    Sam tried not to look surprised. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with the questions? ‘Like what?’ he said.
    â€˜About Simon. He wouldn’t want you to talk about him to me – I know he wouldn’t.’ Alice reached into her bag, pulled out the envelope Sam had seen through the holes, and held it out for him to take. He saw