Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,96

bed with. The man whom I really don’t know very well at all.

He turns then, and despite the low light I can make out his face. The hard edges, the narrow eyes and the small, sharp teeth, and despite the familiarity, I don’t recognise him. How is that possible? I shift in my seat, edging towards the passenger door, slowly moving my hand to the door handle.

‘Say something, Patrick!’ My hoarse voice quivers.

I need to get out of the car. Now. None of this makes any sense. Patrick is terrifying me with his silence. I pull down the door handle and throw the door open, hurling myself out of the car.

‘Lydia!’ he shouts.

I stumble and fall on the grass verge. The internal car light illuminates a patch of earth covered in rotting leaves and the puddles of rainwater from an earlier downpour. A coarse hedge runs alongside the road, and I know what’s behind it. Trees. A small copse. There are no houses here. No one will hear me, and the only sound is my scrabbling and panting.

What has Patrick done? Has he set up Ajay, made him the fall guy? But why? My hand comes away muddy and slimy from where I slipped and put my hand down to halt my tumble. I haul myself upright, but I’m wearing leather ankle boots that slip and slide on the sodden earth.

‘Wait!’

Patrick is out of the car now. He slams the driver’s door closed. I glance over my shoulder. He’s striding towards me.

‘Patrick, tell me that I’ve got this all wrong. That you love me. That you didn’t do anything bad.’

‘Don’t move,’ he says. His voice is low and menacing. I step backwards and grab the side of the car to get my balance.

I can hear a vehicle approaching now; its headlights bounce through the branches and then it lights up the whole of the car.

‘Stop!’ I scream. It comes faster and faster towards us, oblivious to my terror. Patrick is just one stride away from me, but the headlights of the approaching car pick up something in Patrick’s hand. It glints and shimmers as he holds it out in front of him.

A knife.

And then the car has gone and the light disappears, leaving us again in the dank, cold darkness. I shove my hand into my pocket, my fingers gripping the small can. I pull it out just as Patrick takes another step.

‘Please don’t hurt me!’

I can only see two things. The gleam of his eyes and the flash of the blade.

‘No!’ I shout as I press my index finger down hard on the nozzle of the can, spraying it straight into Patrick’s face.

He screams in pain as he staggers, bent over, unseeing. He’s moving towards me, but I dart out of his way.

‘Patrick!

‘I’m going to kill you!’ he roars. But he trips, and it’s obvious that he’s blinded and disoriented. The pain must be unimaginable, but even so, it’s as if there’s a magnet between us, guiding him towards me. ‘You’re as miserly as your bastard husband!’

What the hell is Patrick talking about? Did he know Adam? My stomach spasms as the thought hits me.

Did Patrick kill Adam?

I dart to the other side of the car and pull the driver’s door open, hurling myself inside and slamming the door shut. I press the central door-locking button and feel a sense of relief as I hear the click. He’s left the key fob in the central console, but the car seat is much too far back for me to reach the pedals, so I have to fumble with the seat memory button to bring it forwards. The car shakes as Patrick throws his bulk against it.

My finger slips as I start the car. Come on! Come on! This is such an expensive car, it must start. It always starts. I can see his shadow on the driver’s side of the car.

There’s a massive crash. The whole car shakes, and then there’s the sound of splintered glass and I freeze, waiting to be speared by sharp fragments of glass. But no. The front driver’s window has imploded just millimeters from me, but the glass doesn’t cut. I thought the windows of a car like this were unbreakable.

No!

Patrick’s head is through the hole of the window, his eyes raw red and tears pouring down his cheeks. He is lunging towards me.

‘Go away!’ I cry. ‘Why? Why are you doing this?’

This man who is supposed to love me is an animal. He’s going