Page 137 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

Her heart gave a little jump; he was almost there. ‘Just give me five minutes,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

She leapt in the shower, taking care not to wet her blow-dried hair, then pulled on the outfit she had carefully selected the previous afternoon before leaving for the party. Grabbing her leather overnight bag, she blew the apartment a kiss and ran out of the door. She knew she shouldn’t be running down the steps, giddy with excitement that a man was coming to take her on a romantic day out. She was Sasha Sinclair, ball-breaking businesswoman and style icon. She didn’t chase after men. And yet here she was, skipping across the road, swinging her bag, her day brightened by the man sitting in a silver 1960s Aston Martin. Remember, she thought. You’re calling the shots now.

‘Nice car, mister,’ she said, climbing inside.

‘Only forty of these ever made,’ said Robert proudly. ‘I like to take her out on special occasions.’

She touched his leg gently; he took his left hand off the steering wheel and squeezed her fingers.

God, what am I doing, falling head over heels with a married man? she thought to herself. She was thirty, after all. She didn’t want to wake up alone every morning. Not now, she scolded herself. Just enjoy your birthday.

‘So where are we going?’ she asked.

He flashed her a smile. ‘The coast.’

‘I thought you were strictly a Cote d’Azur man.’

Robert shook his head. ‘Today it’s all about long pebbly beaches, ice cream and crabbing.’

‘Crabbing?’ She laughed. ‘What do you know about crabbing?’

‘I wasn’t always an international playboy, you know,’ he said. ‘I went on horrible family seaside outings like everyone else.’

‘You’ll be taking me on a donkey ride next.’ She grinned.

‘Oh, I’ve got plans for that too,’ he said with a wolfish smile.

On the open roads of Hampshire, Sasha wound the window down and let the breeze bring in the aromas of grass, flowers and wood smoke. It was a bright winter’s day and the sky was the soft blue of a robin’s egg. She wanted every weekend to be like this, not stolen afternoons in hotels. She wanted to wake up with him and kiss him in the street and sit on the sofa listening to music while he massaged her feet. But for now, on this lovely afternoon, all she wanted was what she had: Robert and her together, an adventure in front of them.

‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I’m really . . .’

She never got to finish her sentence. At that moment, time seemed to slow and she could feel herself moving but could do nothing about it, as if she was floating above, tied to the windscreen like a child’s balloon. She watched helplessly as the front of the car turned abruptly, swerving off the road, Robert desperately wrestling with the wheel. She could see the tension in his arms, the tendons standing out, the sudden left and right movements of his hands as they mounted an embankmen

t. She saw the line of trees looming in front of them. And then she saw nothing.

When her eyes opened, blinking at the harsh fluorescent light, she was looking up at chipped polystyrene ceiling tiles. She felt a flutter of fear as she immediately realised she was in a hospital bed. She tried to move her arms, to sit up, but she felt pain in her chest and her head and her legs – everywhere.

‘Don’t try and move, darling.’ She turned her head slightly to see her mother leaning over her, stroking her head. Her first thought was how she hated Carole seeing her like this.

‘What happened?’ asked Sasha weakly. ‘The car . . .’

‘Yes, you were in a car crash,’ said Carole. ‘But the doctors say you’ll be fine. Just concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, a broken wrist and lots of bruising. You might have to be kept in overnight, but only for observation.’

‘Where’s Robert?’

Carole didn’t say anything for a moment.

‘I didn’t know that you and he . . .’

‘Where is he?’ Sasha repeated.

Carole’s eyes dipped to the floor and Sasha felt a flutter of dread.

‘Robert has some very serious injuries,’ she said.‘They don’t think he was wearing his seat belt.’

Fragments of the morning came back into focus. Getting into the car, putting her belt on. Robert getting out of the car at a petrol station. Did he put his seat belt on? She couldn’t remember. Why can’t I remember? she thought angrily. Then: I’ve got to go to him, be with him.

She pulled her weak, bruised body up. ‘Where is he?’