Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,91

it take so long?’ he asks.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we have to see patients in order of the severity of their symptoms.’

‘It’s fine,’ I say.

‘I understand you went into anaphylactic shock. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, I have a severe peanut allergy.’

‘And did you eat peanuts?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. I just had my normal breakfast cereal. I make it myself. But I suppose–’ I glance at Patrick. From the look on his face, he has already reached the conclusion I am coming to. Quite why it has taken me the best part of three and a half hours to work out what may have happened is beyond me. I normally pride myself on being a quick thinker. Perhaps it’s a combination of the flu and the allergic reaction.

The young man gives me a thorough check over and declares me well.

‘I assume you’ll need a new EpiPen?’ he asks.

‘We couldn’t find mine. They weren’t in the places I normally keep them in. Fortunately, my daughter used to be allergic to peanuts, but she seems to have outgrown the allergy. I insist she keeps a pen anyway.’

‘Very sensible,’ he says. He issues me a prescription for a new EpiPen. And then I’m discharged.

When we’ve paid for the parking and Patrick is easing the car out of the car park, trying but rather failing to be patient as the elderly drivers in front of us drive at a speed slower than walking, I turn to him.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

His face looks pained. ‘Yes. I think we’re going to need to report this to the police. But let’s see what’s in your granola.’

‘Do you think Ajay could have turned up yesterday as part of the open house and put peanuts in my granola?’

‘I don’t know, Lydia. But I fear that might be exactly what happened. Let’s check it out when we get home. Or more like, I’ll check it out. I don’t want you anywhere near that granola.’

We drive home in silence.

I go straight upstairs to tell Mia and Oliver that I’m fine.

‘Lydia,’ Patrick shouts upstairs. I leave Mia’s room and stand at the top of the stairs. ‘You were right. I’ve just checked in the kitchen. There are some broken-up peanuts in the granola. I’ve put everything back into the jar, because we need to give it to the police.’

But when I’m in the bathroom, all alone, collecting my thoughts on the day when I nearly died, something hits me. Ajay might have had the opportunity to put peanuts in my granola jar. Ajay might have had the opportunity to take the EpiPen out of the drawer in the kitchen. But has the EpiPen in my handbag been missing for nearly two weeks? Because yesterday I had my bag with me at the racetrack, and prior to that, Ajay won’t have had any access to my bag, as I’ve had it with me all the time, except two weeks ago, during our last run-in at the office. Has he been planning this all along, or has this been done by someone closer to home?

No. Surely not. Patrick loves me. He was as shocked as we were. It must have been Ajay. Premeditated murder.

28

DI Cornish isn’t on duty this weekend, so another couple of detectives pop around. They take statements from both Patrick and me and they remove the jar of granola, putting it in a see-through evidence bag. They promise to be in touch with Worthing hospital to get my medical records.

As much as I haven’t warmed to DI Cornish, I still wish he was on duty.

Sunday night, and once again I’m exhausted. We’re both in bed. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open whilst Patrick is reading the weekend papers, the crackling noise as he turns each page jolting me awake and setting my teeth on edge. For a man who works with technology, he is surprisingly old-fashioned when it comes to his reading methods. No Kindle or iPad for him. And then suddenly the bedside lights flicker and we’re plunged into darkness.

‘What’s happened?’ I ask.

‘Must have been a power cut.’ I hear him drop the newspaper onto the floor. ‘Oh well, let’s make the most of it and go to sleep.’ He shuffles down the bed and then reaches over for me, pulling me into his arms. I welcome the security of his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body, and I melt into him. I’m just about drifting off to sleep when there is a massive crash.

‘What was