Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,71

Oliver hurtles down the stairs, and Mia arrives a couple of minutes later. She’s been much calmer this week.

‘Hello, I’m Fiona.’ She extends her hand to both the kids. She seems awkward around them, not quite knowing what to say. I dole out the food and then make my apologies, saying I need to call Patrick to find out where he is.

I am worried, but I try not to let it show. Images of ambulances and car accidents flash through my mind, but Patrick answers on the fifth ring.

‘Where are you?’ I ask a little snappily.

‘At my client’s.’

‘But I sent you a message telling you that Fiona was coming around and we were having supper at 7 p.m.’

‘Have you forgotten?’ he asks.

‘Forgotten what?’

‘I told you last night that I would be working late tonight and staying over in Southampton.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Lydia, love, I absolutely did tell you. You’ve got too much on at the moment, so it’s not surprising you’ve forgotten. Don’t you remember, you even saw me carry my overnight case out to the car? Anyway, what’s the problem?’

‘None. I just wanted you to meet Fiona.’

‘Another time. Heard anything from Ajay?’

‘No.’

‘That’s good. Got to go now, Lydia. Sleep tight.’

I put the phone down. I am sure that he didn’t tell me he was staying the night in Southampton. I wouldn’t have asked Fiona over this evening if I had known Patrick wasn’t going to be here. And I am certain that I didn’t see him carrying his little suitcase. That would definitely have stuck in my mind. Frowning, I walk back to the table.

‘Everything all right?’ Fiona asks.

‘Yes. There must have been a mix-up. I’m sorry, but Patrick won’t be joining us.’

‘Not a problem. We’ll have more time to gossip. And anyway, if we’re going to talk about your will–’

I cut her off. I do not want her mentioning wills in front of the kids. Oliver is still terrified that I’m going to die on him too, and that he’ll be left an orphan.

Fiona tries to make conversation, but it’s very obvious she doesn’t have experience of teenagers. Giving up on conversing with them, she turns to me. ‘Have you got any holiday plans?’

‘No,’ I say, finishing my second glass of white wine. Fiona has barely touched her first. ‘With the house move and everything, it’s not the right time.’

‘I want to go skiing,’ Mia says.

‘And I want to go scuba diving,’ Oliver retorts.

‘I might be going scuba diving,’ Fiona says. ‘Cassie and I are planning a holiday away together. We’re thinking about Egypt, so we can get a bit of warmth, and I’ve always fancied diving.’

‘Oh,’ I say. I’m taken aback. Cassie hasn’t mentioned anything to me about going away on holiday with Fiona, and I’m surprised that she even has the money.

‘Cassie and I have so much in common,’ Fiona says as she carefully places her cutlery on her empty plate. ‘She’s such a lovely, warm person.’

My smile feels forced and unnatural. I’m jealous. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous and I have no right to be, but Cassie and I have been best friends for years. Fiona is the newcomer. I hadn’t realised that they were hanging out together so much. But it does make sense. They’re of a similar age and both single. Why shouldn’t they go on holiday together? Besides, I’m married again and have kids living at home.

‘Yes. Cassie is the best,’ I say. ‘I hope you have fun.’

‘If you weren’t so busy, we would have suggested you come with us. But I expect your new husband might not be best pleased.’

‘You’re right. We still need to take a honeymoon, and we’ve promised the kids a holiday as soon as things calm down.’

Fiona doesn’t stay late, explaining that she has a busy day tomorrow and promising that she’ll get to my will as soon as she can. It suits me that she leaves early. I’m exhausted. I have a hot bath with water turned blue thanks to my heavenly scented lavender bath oil; I’m in bed by 10.30 p.m. I send Patrick a text message wishing him goodnight. He sends me one back. Sleep well. I love you xxx

I am in a deep sleep when something tugs me awake. My heart is thumping as I come to and switch on my bedside lamp. The phone is ringing. The landline, not my mobile, which I switch off before I go to sleep. My first thoughts are of Patrick. Please God, don’t let anything have happened