Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,69

lid.

‘I think it’s better if you collect Mia at 11 p.m. from the party tonight. It’s too late for her to stay out.’

‘Hey, Lydia, you need to chill! In a few months, she’ll be old enough to start a family. Good heavens, by the time I was her age, I’d been around the block many times, and I’m sure you had, too!’

I bite my lip. I certainly had not been around the block in my teens. ‘But I don’t want you going out so late to collect her.’

‘All right. Let’s compromise. She’ll leave the party at 11.30, so we’ll be back home by midnight. You need to stop worrying.’

It’s all right for you to say that, I think. She’s not your daughter.

At 7 p.m., Mia comes downstairs with her coat wrapped around her slender frame.

‘Where’s Patrick?’ she asks.

‘In the study. I’ll drive you to the party.’

‘No! Patrick already said he’d take me.’

I don’t hear him walk up behind me, so I jump when he speaks. ‘She’s right. I’ll take her. I’ve got an old friend who lives in Crawley, and I’ve agreed to go out for a drink with him so I don’t need to come back here in between.’

‘But you won’t drink, will you?’

‘Lydia!’ he chastises. ‘You must know me better than that by now. Mia will be safe and so will I. Come on, young lady. Let’s get a move on; otherwise you’ll be late for that party.’

‘No alcohol and no smoking,’ I say to Mia’s retreating back.

I am on edge all evening and feel such a sense of relief when I hear car doors slam shortly after midnight. I hurry upstairs and into bed.

‘How was it?’ I ask Patrick as he tiptoes into the bedroom. I switch my bedside light on.

‘Fine, and Mia is home in one piece.’ He starts peeling off his clothes and then walks into our en-suite bathroom. I listen to him turn the shower on and then brush his teeth. When he gets into bed, I turn towards him and run my fingernails down his torso.

‘Not tonight.’ He sighs. ‘I’m tired.’

I edge away from him. We both lie there, still, in the darkness. I try to remember when the last time was we made love. It must be weeks. And we’re still newly-weds. I know we’re not in the first flush of youth, but that can’t be right, surely? I resolve to make more of an effort.

Monday morning, and I have never been so reluctant to go into work. I am sure that Ajay will be there, ready to pounce on me, to demand an apology. Patrick is in London today, and I have no backup. Ajay’s office door is shut and he’s not seated at his desk, so I return to the open-plan office and walk up to Nicky, who is typing rapidly.

‘Is Ajay not in?’

‘No.’

‘Have you heard from him?’

‘No, but I can give him a call if you like?’

‘That’s fine, Nicky. I’ll ring him myself.’

On the one hand I’m relieved that he isn’t here; on the other, it makes me more worried. I can’t see Ajay just walking away. Also, without him I’m going to have to make all the decisions by myself. I’m capable of doing it, but I don’t want to. We have been so comfortable over the past few years, each with our own set of responsibilities. As I sit down at my desk, in my brightly coloured office, I have a lightbulb moment. Patrick is a management consultant. He goes from business to business helping them out, predominantly sorting their IT issues, but I’m sure he would be able to help us here. After all, most of Ajay’s role is logistics and systems stuff. I decide to ask him tonight.

A couple of hours later, Shireen, our new accountant, knocks on my door.

‘I’ve got a bunch of payments I need you to sign off on, and I just wanted to discuss a few issues with you,’ she says, hovering by my desk.

‘Have a seat,’ I say. She looks too young to be a fully qualified accountant, with pimples on her forehead and bright innocent eyes behind large glasses. I sign where she tells me to. Then she stands up, fingers the hem of her jumper and clears her throat. I look at her expectantly and she flushes.

‘There are a few problems,’ she says, shuffling a bit more. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, and I’ve already told Ajay this, but you’ve got five stores that are doing