‘I’m not explaining myself very well. I’m not used to having this kind of conversation. Let me tell you more.’
Bryant’s intestines cringed. He forced out a staggeringly insincere smile.
‘We’ve been married for almost four years. Sabira is eighteen years younger than me.’
May gave a low whistle. Kasavian glared at him before continuing. ‘Yes, I know it’s a big gap. And on the surface, we have few common points of interest. She left school at fifteen to work in a biscuit factory; I went to Eton and King’s College, Cambridge. Her parents used to manage an industrial aluminium smelting plant in Albania and still live on the contaminated site; mine are landowners in Herefordshire and breed horses. She was raised a Muslim, I was High Anglican.’
‘But you love each other very much,’ said May, leaning further forward in his seat. Disgusted, Bryant unwrapped a Hacks cough sweet and crunched it noisily.
‘Our affection for each other is beyond question. I don’t want you to think this is some kind of lovers’ quarrel – there’s been a tangible and dangerous psychological change in her.’
‘Can you give us an example of her behaviour?’
‘I knew Sabira was raised in a religious household, but by the time she left home she was no longer a practising Muslim. I discovered she was superstitious when she began covering all the mirrors in the house.’
‘Why did she do that?’
‘She said there was an evil presence nearby.’ Kasavian shook the thought aside, impatient with its absurdity. ‘She said she could feel something following her around, intending harm. Believe me, I am fully aware how ridiculous this sounds.’
‘Not at all,’ said May. ‘Please go on.’
‘At first it just seemed like another of her quirks. Albania is one of the most religious countries in Europe, and she was raised in a small village, the kind of place about which they have a saying: “In order to live peacefully here, you must first make war with your neighbours.” Coming to London must have been a profound shock for her. Lately her belief in this so-called evil presence has escalated. She started ransacking the house, but wouldn’t tell me what she was looking for. One evening I came home and found her burning books and letters in the garden. She talked about devils taking human form, about satanic conspiracies and witchcraft and a plot against her and God knows how many other crazy notions. It’s not as if this happened slowly; the change occurred over two, perhaps three weeks.’
‘How did you cope with this?’
‘I was very busy here. I had just taken over the development of the new UK border-control directive, so I wasn’t at home much. It’s by far the largest project the department has ever undertaken, a pan-European initiative designed to curtail the movement of members of terrorist organizations within the EU. As the head of the UK delegation I’m representing the wishes and intentions of Her Majesty’s Government.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’ asked Bryant.
Kasavian levelled ebony eyes at him. ‘It means I don’t get home in time for supper.’
‘Does your wife have many friends here?’
‘Hardly any. We met during her second London visit, and soon after she moved here to be with me.’
‘You said the psychological change in her was dangerous – what do you mean by that?’
‘Mr May, my job is to establish a rational explanation for why things go wrong and come up with practical solutions. But what do you do when your wife suddenly announces that she is being chased by demons? She swears there’s someone in the grounds of the house at night, someone who watches her all the time and wishes her harm. She believes she’s the victim of a witch-hunt. She says she only feels safe in a place of worship, so she spends more and more time in mosques and churches. One night she dragged me into the garden to look at a pattern carved on a tree and said it was a satanic sign, that she had been marked as a victim. I can’t talk to any of my colleagues about this, and I certainly couldn’t go to the police without any evidence. There’s no proof, no consistency to these absurd stories. I thought if anyone could understand, it would be you. You seem to know a lot of abnormal people.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Has she seen a doctor?’
‘She absolutely refuses to do so, and I can’t force her. She tells me there is a history of mental instability in her family, and fears becoming like her grandmother or her aunt, both of whom were sectioned after years of aberrant behaviour. She thinks a doctor will look at her past and make assumptions about her mental health.’