Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,19

her to have my children to stay is because our house is going to be searched so as to establish who killed my husband. I suppose I should be grateful that I have been warned in advance. At least they haven’t ram-raided our home at some ungodly hour.

‘I’m here for you,’ Bea says.

But she isn’t. Not really. She lives in London, and although we care for each other, we’ve never been close. I can’t share the intimate intricacies of my life with her in the way I can with some of my friends, like Cassie and Fiona. She doesn’t even know that Adam and I were planning on divorcing. I love Bea, but sometimes I don’t like her. She can be holier than thou and the uber-efficient, judgemental older sister. For that reason, I’ve learned to keep my distance.

Mia is delighted at the prospect of staying in London for a couple of days. Oliver, less so. Nevertheless, I am relieved when Bea comes striding into the house at 9 a.m. the next morning, dressed in navy chinos and a blue-and-white striped boat top. Goodness knows what time she got up to get here so early.

With the children gone, I decide to go to work. I need a distraction. On the drive, I stop off at the garage to fill up with petrol, and to my dismay see the headlines in the local paper.

Sussex owner of Cracking Crafts murdered in family swimming pool

I gasp. Who has told the papers that Adam was murdered? They don’t even know for sure if he was murdered. It’s horrible, and I have to blink repeatedly to stop the tears from overflowing.

The moment I walk through the door at Cracking Crafts, I can sense something is wrong. The staff are neither rushing over to express their dismay about Adam’s death nor avoiding me. They just sit glued to their computer screens, faces pale. I know that expression. It’s shock.

Nicky glances up and sees me. She hurries over.

‘What’s happened?’ I ask.

‘Can we talk in your office?’

‘Sure.’

I glance into Ajay’s office as we walk past, but it’s empty. ‘Is Ajay in a meeting?’

‘Um, no.’

She holds my office door open and I enter my happy, colourful den.

‘He got arrested an hour ago.’

‘What?’

‘The police came here and arrested Ajay. At least they didn’t put handcuffs on him, but they did take him away in a squad car.’

‘Shit,’ I say, sinking into my chair.

‘Do they think he murdered Adam?’ Nicky asks.

‘I don’t know what they think. It’s a nightmare. I feel like I’m living through a real-life hell.’

‘I’m sorry, Lydia. You really are. Can I get you a cup of tea or anything?’

‘No, thanks.’

I try to think straight. I suppose it’s obvious that both Ajay and I must be the key suspects. We both have a motive to kill Adam. But the thought of either of us actually doing it is laughable. I have known Ajay for nearly two decades, and he is level-headed and exactly the sort of person you want around you in a disaster.

I try to recall when I have seen him lose his temper. There was one occasion, back in the early days, when we discovered an employee had been stealing from us. Ajay went mental. He threw a mug at the lad. Fortunately, it missed and splintered on the office floor.

I try to recall any other time. He and Adam had a shouting match about six months ago. Ajay stormed out and Adam refused to tell me what it was about. It happened shortly before I told Adam our marriage was over, and with the fallout over that, I never discovered what they fought about. But those occasions were rare. Normally, Ajay is the voice of reason.

And then I wonder: If Ajay found out that Marianne and Adam were having an affair, could he have murdered Adam? He’s a practical sort of man. I have little doubt he could work out how to mess with wiring to create an electrical current, but would he? It seems so unlikely. Then I remember how he calls Marianne at least once, sometimes more often, every day. I used to think it was because they were still in love, but now I wonder if he is just a controlling husband. I remember how Marianne used to say I was so lucky having a job. I thought it was strange. There she was free to be a lady who lunched, filling her days with shopping and beauty treatments. But perhaps Ajay