I get to my feet and smile, trying to look less out of sorts than I feel. Past the woman’s head at the far end of the path I see someone looking at me, except they aren’t looking, they are watching. I push past the lady who helped me and walk towards the figure. She calls out after me angrily but I just keep moving, my hip sore from the fall, the faintest limp slowing me down. The person is gone down the steps and around the corner before I can reach them. These labyrinthine gardens are hard to navigate if you don’t know your way around. I reach one corner and see the person disappear just ahead of me out through the gate and across the road to the car park. I am almost at the exit; I lose sight of the figure so I run faster, ignoring the bruise on my rump. I rush out and onto the road. I am stopped by the screech of tyres braking just a split second before the car hits me; it stopped but not soon enough. I feel myself fly through the air and land on the tarmac. My head hurts and my vision is blurred. I see people rushing towards me; I try to sit up but I am winded. The woman driving the red Mini Cooper that just hit me is crying as she checks my head for blood. I know I’m not seriously hurt but I may be concussed. The first thing I think is how glad I am that I hadn’t been drinking today; if I had died it would have got back to Chris and I promised him I would try to control myself.

I manage to sit up, and through the legs of the people fussing over me and checking that I am OK I can see a car pulling out of the car park. It’s a brown car. I see it more clearly this time. I know that car. The dog tags, the car. It’s all pointing to one irrefutable answer.

He’s back, and he knows what I did.

Chapter Twenty-Seven