Then I realise something, and reality slaps me in the facelike a wet fish.
There’s a particular reason why I don’t invite people to myhouse these days. But guess what I’ve just done?
I’ve invited Aidan to my house...
*****
As I walk along the lane to the church with my flowers,I’m lost in thought, thinking about my chat with Aidan and what I’ll talk toMaggie about today. So I’m almost at the graveside before I notice to mysurprise that a youngish man is standing there.
I slow right down and observe him. He’s wearing jeans and adark grey jacket, and his hands are folded in front of him as he bends his headin contemplation.
As I get nearer, he starts walking away. And as we pass eachother, he nods, and I do the same. He’s very tall and slim with glossy blackhair and a brilliant white smile.
Is he a friend or a relative?
Whoever Maggie’s visitor is, he must wonder who left theflowers.
The fact that Maggie does, in fact, have a visitor otherthan me feels quite strange. I suppose I’d stupidly assumed I was the only one,after all this time of never seeing anyone else here. I’m not sure why it feelsodd to know there’s someone else. Maybe it’s because the presence of anotherperson who cared enough about Maggie to visit her grave brings it home to mejust how much was lost the day she died.
Tears blur my vision as I make my way back to my car.
My mind is never far away from that terrible day – and allthe fear and uncertainty that led up to it. And as I drive home, I find myselfreliving it all once more...
CHAPTERSEVEN
When Darren came into Rachel’s life, two years after Imoved from London to Torminster, she was so happy.
I’d never seen her so glowing.
She had her long chestnut-coloured hair cut into a sleek bobthat suited her perfectly, and all the ‘baby weight’ she’d been waging a war onfor a long time (Poppy was seven by then) vanished within weeks. With myencouragement, she went out and bought herself some lovely new clothes,including a few stunning dresses that looked amazing on her. (This was the girlwho’d sworn off dresses for life after Poppy was born, declaring that it’d becomfy clothes from that date onwards.)
She hadn’t had a relationship since Poppy was born and sowhen Darren swept her off her feet, taking her out to elegant restaurants andflying her over to Amsterdam for the weekend for their six-month anniversary, Iwas delighted for her.
I was first introduced to Darren at Rachel’s house. Sheinvited me over one Saturday night for dinner, and my first impressions of hernew boyfriend were good.
He was tall and thick-set with corn-coloured hair andglasses and an attractive smile. He was also good-humoured and courteous,helping out in the kitchen and very attentive towards Rachel. And he seemedgenuinely interested in me, asking intelligent questions about my career andwhy I’d decided to make the move from the Scilly Isles to London. Poppy satwith us for a while before going up to bed, and Darren made her laugh withfunny stories about a naughty dog he had as a kid. I’d always thought childrenwere a good judge of character, and Poppy seemed to like him.
Being a single mother wasn’t always easy. Rachel deservedsome happiness and I was there for it, one hundred percent. Poppy came to minefor more sleepovers as well, which was a lovely added bonus.
For the first six months, Rachel was always smiling, and Itold myself that even though I found him a little bit showy – with histop-of-the-range Lamborghini, handmade suits and big, flashy watches – Darrenseemed good for her. He clearly made her happy, and that was good enough forme.
I shrugged off the little niggles I’d started to have abouthim myself. I found him outwardly polite and charming, but there was somethingunsettling about him. It almost felt like his charm was an act.
After our first meeting, it was a long time before I saw himagain, apart from in passing. I usually caught up with Rachel on her own whenDarren was working late, and I started to wonder if this was deliberate. MaybeDarren wanted Rachel all to himself? Of course, that was understandable –especially in the early stages of a romance.
Then something happened that cast a sinister new light ontheir relationship.
It was Rachel’s birthday and she’d been excited for weeksabout the special night out Darren was planning for her. He’d bought her anexpensive new outfit to wear, and she brought it over to show me.
‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ She unwrapped it carefully from thetissue paper to reveal a scarlet cocktail dress made of silk organza.Knee-length and body hugging, it had tiny spaghetti straps and was adorned withlace and hundreds of tiny crystal beads on the bodice. As she lifted it out andheld it against her, I caught a glimpse of the price tag and almost gasped outloud.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmured, although privately I knew itwasn’t really Rachel’s style. She’d always preferred sleek and minimal forevening wear; darker colours to set off the red tones in her hair. ‘Did youchoose it?’
She shook her head. ‘He picked it himself,’ she said, with alook of pride. ‘And look at the shoes. Aren’t they amazing?’
She opened the box and showed me the fancy, sky-high redheels, and my eyes must have been out on stalks because she burst out laughing.‘I know, I know. I’ll never be able to walk in them. But they are gorgeous,aren’t they?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said quickly, not wanting to rain on herparade.
