your voice.’
‘Yes, and you’d better stay away. I don’t want you catching it. Just leave the drink on the chest of drawers, sweetheart.’
I haven’t got the energy to do anything except mull over the day’s events, thinking about Ajay and Patrick. Is my new husband telling me the truth? I could have sworn he said Guildford this morning, but why would he lie about something like that? And why does he seem so sure that Ajay is Adam’s murderer? I wonder if he knows something that he’s not telling me.
At some point, he brings me a mug of soup and a piece of toast. I think it’s vegetable stock, and I don’t feel like drinking it. Later in the evening, Patrick comes into our room and collects some of his clothes.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Sleeping next door in the spare room. I don’t want to catch your germs.’
I roll over onto my side. That annoys me. Whilst I understand he is being sensible, I don’t want to be lying here all alone.
‘Sleep well, Lydia. Hope you’re feeling better in the morning.’
The next time I awake, the phone is ringing. I fumble in the dark to find it, as I don’t suppose Patrick will hear it ringing from the spare room.
‘Hello,’ I whisper. Silence. I glance at my alarm clock. It’s shortly before 1 a.m. I hang up. Not again, please not again.
But just as I’ve dropped back into another deep sleep, it happens all over again. This time I don’t hang up, but hold the phone in my hand as I stumble through the bedroom, out into the hall, and ease open the closed door to the spare room.
‘Patrick,’ I whisper, ‘can you wake up?’
‘What is it?’ He jerks awake, bolting upright in bed.
‘I’m sorry to wake you, but we’ve had another silent call. Two, actually.’ I hold up the phone.
He beckons me over and I pass it to him. He holds it to his ear. ‘It’s just a dial tone.’
‘They must have hung up.’
‘Ajay probably, pissed off because of what happened today, I suppose,’ Patrick says.
‘I’m scared, Patrick.’
He lies back down in bed.
‘No reason to be. Just pull the socket out of the line so you’re not disturbed. I’ll leave my mobile phone on. Wake me up again if you’re scared.’
‘Okay, thank you,’ I say and shuffle back to our bedroom. But I’m not appeased. It may be my illness, but I can’t rid myself of that sense of impending doom that sends my heartbeat soaring and my nerve ends tingling. Before Adam died, I had no inkling that something bad was about to happen, but now, I’ve got the sense that worse may be just around the corner.
25
The next morning I struggle to open my eyes. I turn to look at Patrick and see the uncreased side of his bed. Then I remember. He slept next door – and we had those silent calls. Again. I am just trying to heave myself up to go to the bathroom when he walks into the room, dressed in a suit with a smart navy coat over the top. I don’t think I’ve seen the overcoat before.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Lousy.’ I flop back onto my pillow.
‘I’ve got to go to Manchester for the next two days. It’s something I really can’t get out of. Will you be ok by yourself?’
‘I’ll have to be,’ I mutter.
‘I’ve sent Cassie a text message asking if she can collect Mia and Oliver from school.’
‘Ok.’ I know Patrick must have had help from Cassie when organising my birthday party, but I wonder how often they are in contact with each other.
‘I’m not happy about these silent calls.’ He rubs his chin. ‘Make sure you keep the doors locked and leave your mobile phone on all the time. And the slightest hint of any trouble from Ajay, call the police.’
I nod. I wish he wasn’t going. I don’t feel like spending the next forty-eight hours without him.
‘Who’s the client?’ My voice definitely sounds less croaky than yesterday, and it isn’t quite so painful to talk.
‘An important one, from the States. Right, I need to get going now.’
‘Take my car.’
He stops still and his face lights up. ‘Are you sure?’
I know he prefers driving my Porsche Cayenne to his Golf, which he only got back from the garage recently. And I don’t blame him. But the real reason I want him to take my car is that I’m nervous of him driving the kids in the Golf. If it