Conway gave me a horrible, sly smile. I hated him in that moment. If I’d had something heavy to hand I would have bashed him over the head with it. ‘You really believe that, do you?’

‘W-what?’ I stammered.

‘Think about it. He’s a good driver, right?’ The present tense again. I wanted to kill him for it. ‘Got a good, strong car, costs a bloody fortune. But he drives into a tree on a quiet road? And you thought it was an accident? Wake up, love.’

I felt sick, the room lurching. ‘What do you mean? Tell me. Tell me what you know!’

‘Money first.’ He drained his glass of my brandy, and I knew I would throw it away after he left. ‘Get it and I’ll tell you the truth about your husband. Paddy-Sean-Andrew, whatever his name is. You don’t know the half of it, love.’ Andrew? What did he mean?

‘Tell me right this minute what you mean, or I’ll go to the police.’ I tried to hold it together. I needed to know what he knew. My head was spinning, and I could feel it leaking away, all the control I’d carefully taken back, all the pressure I brought down on my memories, squashing them flat. My husband, with another woman. A house, roaring up in flames.

‘Nah, you won’t. Come to mine – I’ll give you till Friday. Flat 7, Hereford Gardens, in Guildford. I’ll be there after eight.’ And he gave me a horrible pointy-finger sign, like he was shooting a gun, and stepped back towards the door. ‘Bloody nightmare finding this place, isn’t it? Bit more snow and you’ll be stuck down here.’ I wondered why I hadn’t seen his car. He must have parked it up the road, around the bend. And I had walked right into his trap.

At the sound of the door shutting, relief flowed through me. That awful man was gone. I was alone. I could think, breathe, get a hold of myself. But what did he mean? Was he saying there was more to Patrick’s accident than I thought? I had wondered the same. How could he crash like that, on an empty road? It made no sense. What did Conway know?

Suzi

Suzi