‘Mmm, but a nasty note, white roses. It’s all a bit melodramatic. It just doesn’t seem like something Tom would do.’
‘Shall we get the police involved?’ he asks.
‘Not yet, I’ll leave it for now. But if anything else happens I’ll call the police.’
‘Oh babe.’ Alex hugs me protectively. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been upset and scared, but you’re here with me now.’
‘Yeah, thank goodness,’ I add with a sigh, as we walk into the living room together. ‘Anyway, let’s try and forget about it for tonight. I might call the police tomorrow, just for advice if nothing else,’ I clarify, hoping I don’t sound too paranoid.
‘Yeah, tricky though. Not sure how you’d report a crime involving the unwanted scent of perfume and an unfolded blanket.’ He smiles, clearly trying to lift the mood.
‘Yeah, not sure how that would go down at the station.’ I try to play along but I can still feel the sickly scent clinging to me, and ask Alex if it’s okay to take a shower.
He smiles, takes my hand and gently leads me into the shower, where he undresses me, then himself, and I stand under the spray of heat, thawing as he covers me in fragrant body wash. I can’t get enough of him, and soon the rhythm of his thighs against mine is working with the throbbing heat of the shower.
Afterwards, as we lie naked on the bed, our arms and legs entwined, he says, ‘I’ve never been happier, Hannah. Being with you these last few days has been wonderful, and I never want it to end.’
I smile, it’s too soon for promises, but I know I never want this to end either.
I turn over and try to fall asleep, but then I remember the smell in my car. It fills my head and claws at my lungs. I know someone was in there, but who?
I’m woken early the following morning by the shriek of my phone. I turn over, but remember Alex has gone into work early as he’s involved in a big court case today. It might be him on the phone, so I pick up, shocked to hear Tom’s voice on the other end. He’s finally responding to several angry messages I’ve left on his phone after the flower delivery the other day.
‘What the hell is going on, Hannah?’ he yells.
I don’t want some horrible fight over the phone, while I’m half awake. So I ask to meet him before work, and ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the window of Costa Coffee in the centre of Worcester. The building is steeped in history, from the dark beams and the wonky wooden floor, to the unsettling death mask of a traitor from the Civil War looking down on me from the wall.
Tom works opposite at the guildhall, a beautiful eighteenth-century building right on the high street, where this year’s Christmas tree will soon sit in its splendour. As I wait, I imagine the tree, the strings of lights along the high street, and I feel a rush of excitement knowing how different this Christmas will be with Alex.
I sit there a while. Tom’s late, he always used to be late for everything. Eventually he saunters in, wanders to the counter and orders himself a latte. He barely looks round to see me, or ask if perhaps I might like a drink. He hasn’t changed.
I sip my gingerbread latte and wait.
Tom finally sees me and, in no rush, he comes over to my table by the window and sits down. He doesn’t say hello, just stares at me. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d be amused – typical, laid-back Tom is clearly fuming that I threatened him with the police, but as usual he took his time to respond.
‘What the hell is this about? You don’t get in touch for months, and you don’t want to know when I’m in trouble – but suddenly when it affects you you’re straight on the phone threatening me with the bloody police!’
‘What do you expect me to do when I get shit like this through the post?’ I hiss, taking the card from my handbag and shoving it across the table at him. ‘And don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it.’
He slowly picks up the card, reads it, and looks up. ‘That’s bloody creepy – you should call the police,’ he says, pushing it back across the table like it’s dirty.