Page 51 of The Silent Bride
There’s a silver car behind me, the dying sun glinting off its shiny paintwork. I need to be more careful, or the driver will think I’m under the influence. I turn on the radio, searching for music rather than the annoyingly chirpy adverts I keep landing on. Finally I find a nineties channel and hum along to a song I vaguely recognise from my childhood.
The music helps soothe me, but it doesn’t drown out Seth’s parting words – that I’ve broken his heart – which keep spinning round and around in my head. I glance in my rear-view mirror to see that the silver car has dropped back.
I take a breath and focus on the road ahead, trying not to read anything into the fact that I suddenly remember there was a silver car parked along the lane outside Seth’s house when I left. There are hundreds of silver cars. Thousands. Even if it was the same car, that doesn’t mean anything. Why then do my thoughts keep boomeranging back to Damian? I don’t even know what car he drives these days. I don’t even know if it was him I saw a couple of weeks back. I’m being stupid.
My eyes flick back up to the mirror. I swallow. The car is still there, more sinister now that my imagination is in full flow. I press down a little harder on the accelerator. I can’t be sure, but it feels like the silver car is matching my speed. I’m forced to slow as Iapproach the junction that will take me back on to the main road towards Ringwood. My heart rate speeds up as the car tightens the gap between us, drawing closer. The sun is so bright, I can’t see through its windscreen. I wonder if the driver can see me inside my car. I wonder if it’s him.
Cars and lorries thunder along the main road, preventing me from pulling out. Sweat breaks out on my upper lip as I check my car doors are all locked now that the silver car is right behind mine. I tell myself that I’m just stressed after breaking up with Seth. That my emotions are making me paranoid. But even though I tell myself this, it doesn’t stop the fear rolling through me.
Finally, a tiny gap in the traffic opens and I clumsily pull out, making an approaching BMW brake hard. The guy sounds his horn and flashes his lights at me. I flinch and speed up, wiping a sweaty palm on my top and waving in an apology that hasn’t been accepted if the red-faced man’s facial expressions are anything to go by. His BMW draws aggressively close for a moment before eventually dropping back.
I exhale and check my mirrors for the silver car. I don’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t back there somewhere. Even though I continue to check my mirrors obsessively all the way home, thankfully I don’t spot it again. But still a residual fear clings to me for the rest of the evening, mingling with the relief and sadness of having ended my relationship with Seth.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THEN
We all meet downstairs in the orangery for a late breakfast.
‘I feel like we’re in an Edwardian play,’ Mum says, lifting her bone-china teacup and looking around, ‘what with all the hot-house plants and wicker furniture.’
‘And these mosaic floor tiles are gorgeous,’ I add.
‘I know, right?’ Elizabeth laughs. ‘After breakfast, we should gather our parasols and take a stroll in the morning air,’ she proclaims, getting into the spirit of things.
‘Actually, I think this is more of a Victorian design than Edwardian,’ Charlotte says.
‘Did you sleep well, Alice?’ Daisy asks, purposely ignoring Charlotte.
‘Really well, thanks. Fran and I chatted for about ten minutes, but I must have nodded off.’
‘I think you fell asleep mid-sentence,’ Francesca says with a giggle.
‘Sorry about that! I’m not used to so much rest and relaxation. I think my body is going into shut-down mode. So, what’s the plan for today?’
‘I saw a tennis court round the back,’ Charlotte says. ‘Who’s up for a game?’
‘Maybe later,’ Miriam replies. ‘I’m too hungover for sports right now. But I’m definitely up for a walk around the grounds. Anyone fancy it?’
‘Me,’ Elizabeth replies. ‘I booked lunch for one fifteen, and then some of us have treatments at three.’
‘Then chilling by the pool after?’ Daisy asks.
‘Definitely,’ I reply.
‘I’ll have a knockabout with you on the court, Charlotte,’ Mum says, kindly.
‘Oh, thanks.’ Charlotte purses her lips. ‘But I was thinking more of a proper game. I used to play semi-professionally when I was younger and I don’t get much of an opportunity to play these days.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mum replies. ‘I’m not really at that level. Maybe I’ll join the walk instead.’
I squeeze Mum’s hand.
‘Anyone else fancy a game?’ Charlotte asks, her head swivelling, her gaze encompassing the group.
But no one responds to her tennis challenge, so we finish breakfast and arrange to meet in the lobby in half an hour for a walk.
The morning passes in a wonderful haze of friendship, laughter, stunning scenery and gentle sunshine. Then, after a delicious lunch, we head back to our rooms for an indulgent nap before arranging to meet down at the spa after our treatments. I’ve opted for an aromatherapy massage and, as I head out of the locker room in my robe and slippers, I already feel pleasantly woozy from my nap. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open.
