Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,61

Andrew McFeatry.’

The receptionist has glossy long blonde hair, super-sized black false eyelashes and heavily stenciled eyebrows. Her teeth flash bright white as she smiles at me, and the bright blue of her shirt echoes the turquoise of her eyes. I assume she’s wearing coloured contact lenses. Most of the staff here are like her. Pretty young girls, with drawling, privately educated voices that rise in pitch at the end of sentences, eager for a break on television, which ninety-nine percent of them won’t get. She rings Andrew.

‘Mr McFeatry says please go straight up.’

I nod. I know my way around here. Even though I haven’t presented in months, I have demonstrated products on BUYIT TV probably half a dozen times a year for the past seven years. I walk to the bank of glass lifts and press the button. When I emerge on the fifth floor, Andrew bounces over to greet me.

‘Dear Lydia,’ he says, grasping my shoulders and giving me an air kiss above each cheek, ‘I am so sorry for your loss, but I understand you’ve already moved on. Who is he, then? Pictures, please!’

Quite how Andrew is so up to date with my personal life, I have no idea.

‘I’ll show you later. If we’re on air at 11 a.m., I need to get a move on. Make-up will have a lot of work to do,’ I say, pulling a face.

‘You’re beautiful as always,’ Andrew fawns as we walk side by side towards the dressing rooms.

I haven’t met the make-up girl before, but she seems unfazed by my face and quickly gets to work. I try to swot up on the instructions for the knitting machine, even though I already know them inside out. She is putting the final touches to my face when my mobile phone rings. She frowns. We’re meant to switch our phones off on this floor. There’s nothing I can do, as she’s applying a last coat of mascara.

‘Sorry,’ I say.

She sighs. ‘Do you need to get that?’

I fumble in my bag and find my phone, switching it onto silent. But then it starts again, vibrating in my hand. My heart leaps. It’s the kids’ school. I have to answer it.

It’s the school secretary. ‘Mrs Palmer, sorry, Mrs Grant, I’m afraid that something has happened to Mia and we need you to come to school straight away.’

‘What do you mean something has happened? Is she ok?’

‘Yes, she’s fine.’

‘Has there been an accident?’

The make-up artist sighs and looks up at the clock. I have five minutes until I’m meant to be on air.

‘No, nothing like that. But we need you to come as soon as possible. There has been an incident.’

‘I can’t!’ I say, a ring of panic in my voice. ‘I’m in London, about to go on television.’

‘Please arrange for one of Mia’s other guardians to come, then. This really can’t wait until the end of the day.’

Andrew pops his head around the door to my dressing room.

‘All ok, darling?’

I grimace at him. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ I say before ending the call to the school secretary. ‘Got an emergency with my daughter,’ I tell Andrew. He rolls his eyes. Proud to be childless and gay, he is thoroughly disinterested in children.

‘Four minutes,’ he says, pointing to his watch and letting the door close.

My fingers are shaking as I dial Patrick’s phone. He answers after the sixth ring.

‘Patrick, please can you go to the kids’ school for me? There’s been a problem and I’m stuck up here in London.’

‘Sorry, Lydia. No can do. I’ve just arrived in Southampton and am about to go into a meeting.’

‘Oh.’

‘Must go. Speak later.’ He hangs up on me.

I call Cassie, and whilst I’m holding the phone up to my ear, the make-up artist comes towards me, brandishing the mascara wand. Cassie’s phone goes to voicemail. Hardly surprising that she has her phone off during the day whilst she’s teaching.

One of the runners opens the door. ‘You’re on in sixty seconds, Mrs Palmer.’

I don’t correct her. Instead, I jump up, tug my skirt down and follow her out of the room. And in this moment, I’m missing Adam. I know it’s crazy and hypocritical, but at least if Adam were still alive, he would have dealt with the school. But now I’m alone. I can’t rely on Patrick to help out with the kids, and why should he? They’re just an appendage to me. It’s not fair to expect any more from my new husband.

And Mia. What has happened