Gripped by sudden panic, I rose, bumping the table so that everything jumped and my spoon clattered to the ground.
‘Sorry I’m late, I wanted to get this,’ the man said. He wasn’t even looking at me. I turned to see a woman, waiting outside the café, her face lit up in a smile. She exclaimed with pleasure when he held out the bag he was carrying and opened it for her to peer inside.
‘Oh, it’s gorgeous,’ she said, pressing a kiss on his cheek. ‘Mum will love it.’
Heart thumping, I bent to pick up the fallen spoon, meeting the curious gaze of the middle-aged woman who’d been chatting to her partner. It seemed to say, What’s going on with her? I gripped the back of the chair, but was too on edge to sit down again.
‘Sorry, it was delicious, but I have to go,’ I said to Nell, thrusting a ten-pound note across the counter, ignoring her cry of, ‘What about your change?’ as I hurried out.
I practically jogged back to Fernley House, glancing over my shoulder as if I was being chased. When I reached my car, I threw myself inside and locked the doors, panting like a dog. Catching sight of myself in the mirror was a shock. I looked out of control; wild-eyed, with strands of hair escaping my topknot, my face sweaty and red.
Making myself breathe deeply, I pushed air out of my lungs – in, out, in, out – until my heart had stopped racing and my cheeks had cooled down. I had to think clearly, and stop looking for connections that didn’t exist. I couldn’t – mustn’t – let myself fall apart. That was exactly what someone wanted me to do.
What I should be doing, was trying to find out who.
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