The Passengers(66)

‘My accountant called about a missing thirty thousand pounds from an account,’ she began.

‘And?’

‘And where is it?’

‘I used it to take care of something.’

‘What “something”?’

‘Something that doesn’t concern you. I thought we had an agreement? You live your life and I’ll live mine. No questions asked.’

‘What have you done, Patrick?’

He lowered the newspaper and sighed. ‘It was an … indiscretion. I needed the money to resolve a misunderstanding.’

Sofia’s pulse hammered in her throat. ‘You’ve been caught, haven’t you? You’ve had to pay someone off.’

‘Like I said, you live your life and—’

‘This is my life you’re screwing with too!’ she screamed. ‘Who was it? What did you do?’

‘Some girl’s mother got the wrong end of the stick and I used the money to ensure no one else got the wrong end of the stick too.’

‘So you, what, paid her off? What kind of a parent would allow you to get away with that?’

‘Are you really lambasting her for turning a blind eye? Pot, kettle, my darling.’

‘What if she comes back demanding more money? Or threatens to go to the tabloids or the police?’

‘She won’t, she signed a non-disclosure agreement. Virtually bit my hand off for the cash.’

‘Where did you get a non-disclosure from?’

‘A lawyer friend of mine drafted it. Fairly standard.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Sofia, feeling faint. ‘How many times have you done this?’

Patrick peered over the top of his glasses. ‘Do you really want to know?’

Sofia did and she didn’t. ‘This has to stop. You have to turn yourself in to the police, it’s the only way forward.’

‘No. I will not do that. I’d be eaten alive in prison.’

‘Then check yourself into a hospital and get the treatment you need.’

‘There is no treatment for people like me! Surely you must know that? My … urges … they’re hardwired into my brain. Coping mechanisms do not work.’

‘What then? You’re just going to spend the rest of your life molesting children and paying off their parents?’

Patrick shook his head. ‘That’s not a word I like to use.’

‘Molest? Why? That’s what you are, a child molester. I am married to a child molester.’

‘And you have known this for years, so don’t try and convince me this is news.’

Sofia bit her lip and looked away. ‘Please, Patrick. We can’t carry on like this. Your behaviour is killing me. I have to tell someone.’

A rush of tears fell from her eyes leaving dark streaks of eyeliner. Patrick placed his newspaper on the cushions and rose to his feet. Gently, he placed both hands on her shoulders like he was giving her a pep talk. ‘I’m sorry, Sofia, I really am, but carrying on like this is the only way. If it comes out publicly that you knew about me but we stayed together, or that it was our money I used in return for parental silence, then your life as you know it will be over just as quickly as mine. And I swear to you, I will not go down for this alone. Even though it would pain me to do it, I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen about the role you played.’

Sofia saw red, drew her arm back and slapped him hard across the face. With one hard shove, Patrick pushed her backwards and into the wall, where she lost her footing and crumpled to a heap on the floor. Patrick rubbed his smarting cheek before calmly pouring himself a brandy from a decanter.

‘Can I tempt you?’ he asked casually. ‘It usually helps that blind eye of yours to mist over.’

‘Why would you want to ruin me?’ begged Sofia. ‘What have I ever done to you?’

‘You robbed me of the chance to be a father. I know about your sterilisation. Your doctor called to check on your recovery and was unaware of my ignorance and your deception.’

‘How could I have had your child knowing what you are capable of?’

‘It could have changed something inside me, but I guess we’ll never know for sure, will we?’

Sofia watched helplessly as Patrick shrugged his shoulders and made his way out of the office casually, sipping from his glass as he walked.

Suddenly, a loud bang brought her back to the present – an object striking the rear window of her car startled her. Sofia turned to see where the noise had come from, just as a second object hit the door.

‘Jesus,’ she shouted and Oscar barked.

Tentatively, she looked outside and noticed, for the first time, the streets packed with people, watching as her car slowly passed them. Without her hearing aid, she couldn’t make out what they were shouting but from their angry gestures and twisted faces, she read their depth of hatred for her. Others began to hurl missiles at her vehicle; stones, rocks and clumps of earth. She shielded her eyes when, ahead, a man on a bridge held a breeze block aloft, timing it perfectly as he let go. Sofia screamed as it bounced from the windscreen and onto the bonnet, leaving the reinforced glass with circular cracks like a spider’s web.

‘Please, stop,’ she begged, her voice trembling. ‘Please, I’m sorry. I’m begging you, just tell them to leave me alone. I know I’ve done wrong, I just want to die in peace.’