Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,43

on,’ I say. ‘You’ll need the keys to open it.’

I have an unproductive day pottering around at home, mainly because I’m overtired and my mind is in turmoil about Patrick. He says he loves me, and I think I love him too, but is he being really honest with me? I just don’t know. Those little niggling doubts at the back of my mind make concentrating so difficult. I chastise myself for not asking him about the receipt there and then, because at least I would have had clarity. I’m just glad that I’m seeing Cassie and Fiona for a drink tonight. They’ll help me make sense of my doubts.

We meet at a little wine bar in Horsham. It’s a cosy room with low ceilings, dark beams and glass tables. Fiona is already there when I arrive. She stands to greet me, planting a kiss on both my cheeks. She is dressed immaculately as always in one of her ubiquitous trouser suits. It’s navy blue today, accessorized by a turquoise blouse. It suits her.

‘You look tired,’ she says.

I sink into the chair. ‘I am. I suppose I didn’t put enough concealer under my eyes!’

She pours me a glass of white wine from the bottle already on the table.

‘What’s up?’

‘Just stuff with Patrick.’ We are interrupted by Cassie’s arrival. She has transformed her hair once again. It’s now jet black and striking against her pale skin.

‘Talking about her gorgeous man, are you?’ she says as she drops her boho bag on the floor and sits down. ‘Have you met him yet, Fiona? He’s divine!’

‘Lucky you,’ Fiona says to me. ‘What were you about to say?’

‘I think I’m in love with Patrick, but I don’t know if I can trust him, and it’s driving me to distraction.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’ Cassie has poured herself so much wine, she has to bend down to slurp from the rim of the glass so as not to spill it.

I snigger. Fiona looks bemused. I suppose she’s not yet used to Cassie’s idiosyncrasies.

‘I found a receipt for dinner for two in a posh London restaurant, but he had already told me he was in Manchester that night.’

‘Yikes,’ Cassie says. ‘Are you sure? Perhaps it wasn’t even his receipt.’

‘I know, I know. But it’s eating me up.’

‘Why don’t you just ask him about it?’ Fiona suggests.

‘Yes, I should do. I don’t want to offend him. And he’s asked me to lend him money for a rental car because his was badly damaged.’

‘You’ve loaned him money!’ Cassie exclaims.

‘Yes, for cancer treatment for his sick sister and for the rental car. But he didn’t ask for the money for his sister, I offered it,’ I say, trying to dismiss the kernel of concern that is bubbling in my stomach at my friends’ reactions. ‘Really, it’s fine.’ I’m glad I haven’t told Fiona and Cassie quite how much money I’ve loaned him.

‘It’s not fine, is it, Fiona?’ Cassie says.

‘I don’t think I’d loan someone money I don’t know very well, but it’s hard for me to say. What’s your gut instinct telling you?’ Fiona asks.

‘That he’s a good guy. He told me he loves me and I’m in love with him too.’ I feel my cheeks redden.

‘In which case, I shouldn’t worry. I can always put something in writing for you, and you can ask Patrick to sign to confirm your agreement.’

‘Thanks for the offer, Fiona,’ I say, and then change the subject. ‘I can’t wait to go to Switzerland for Christmas. The kids are having a great time.’

‘You’re really lucky.’ Fiona sighs, slumping in her chair. ‘I’ve got so much work I don’t think I’ll get much time off. I’m sick and tired of dull property transactions and drawing up wills. Think I might look for another job in the New Year.’

That jogs my memory. ‘Talking of wills, we can’t start probate for Adam’s estate until the inquest has completed,’ I say. ‘There’s still so much legal stuff to do. Actually, I was thinking I should probably change my will. At the moment, everything is left to Adam.’ I sigh.

‘I’m happy to have a look at it for you,’ Fiona offers. ‘I’m sure I can fit it in.’

‘Thanks, that would be helpful.’

And then my mobile pings with a text. I glance at it and redden.

‘Who’s it from?’ Cassie asks.

‘Patrick.’

‘What does he say?’

‘I can’t possibly show you!’ I bury my phone deep inside my handbag. Patrick has just spelled out exactly what he would like to do to me right now,