I turned back. ‘Yes?’

‘Whatever they’re saying, don’t believe it.’ He’d taken his cap off, and was twisting it in his hands. ‘He’s a good man, Mr Fforbes. Best I’ve worked for.’

I gave a half-hearted smile, and nodded. ‘Thank you, Stephens.’

He returned my smile, anxiety etched across his face, then hurried round to the driver’s side. I stood and watched as he got in and pulled away, then turned back to the door. As I went to put my key in the lock, it flew open. Liv stood there, wild-haired and red eyed.

She looked how I felt, so I knew right away something was wrong.

‘Where have you been, then, you dirty stop-out?’ she said, clearly doing her best to sound cheerful. ‘Not with the Fforbesmeister?’

I nodded, not wanting to speak in case I dissolved into the tears I could feel pricking at my eyes.

‘Well, come in, then,’ she said, dragging me by the arm. ‘Tell all.’

We went through into the kitchen, where she set to making tea. Being back at Liv’s, and especially in her warm, comforting kitchen, made me feel safer, somehow. Less vulnerable. I felt the tension fading away slightly, and the tears with it.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I said, when I felt able to talk again. ‘You tell me. I can see something’s up.’

‘It’s Gav.’ Liv brought the tea over, and sat down opposite me at the table.

‘Oh no,’ I said, putting my hand on hers. ‘Not…?’

‘Yes,’ she said, in tones of high gloom. ‘Celeste. And, of course, she’s loving it.’

‘Oh, Liv.’ I patted her hand, not knowing what to say. ‘You’re worth ten of her. And him,’ I added, as an afterthought.

If anything, ten was an understatement. I’d never got what she saw in him, but he obviously had some sort of hold over her, and I hated seeing her so down.

‘Thanks,’ she said, bleakly. ‘I just feel so…let down, you know?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ I didn’t look at my cup – just took a sip from it. I promptly put it down again, with an exclamation. ‘Ew! What is that? Is it…?’

‘Green tea,’ said Liv, absently. ‘Sorry, I forgot. It’s good for you,’ she added, helpfully.

‘I heard,’ I said, lifting it up to my nose and inhaling the smell. It still smelt of grass but, also, of him or, at least, of that time we’d spent together in the café. My throat tightened with misery at the memory, and I set my cup down firmly on the table.

‘Be careful,’ said Liv, taking it away from me. ‘You’ll spill it.’

I half wanted to take it back, to smell it again and remember that intoxicating feeling of being with him, but it was pointless. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s okay. I just didn’t want it melting a hole in the table.’ She took a sip of her tea, and grimaced. ‘Ugh…it would, as well. It’s like battery acid.’

I managed a laugh at her disgusted face, and she grinned back briefly, before looking up at the wall. I followed her gaze to a poster of the band. She gave a sigh at the sight of it, then put her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands.

‘What about the band?’ I said, as it was obvious that was where her mind was.

‘There is no band.’

‘What? Oh, Liv, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ She stood up. ‘Fuck the tea,’ she said. ‘Let’s crack open the bubbly.’

‘Bubbly?’ God, it was barely midday. ‘What for?’

‘To celebrate, of course,’ she said. ‘I’m starting a new chapter in my life. A new band, hopefully, sometime soon, and you just spent the night with the UK’s most eligible bachelor.’

I suspected it was more about getting hammered than celebrating but, after the last twenty four hours, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I dutifully took the glass she thrust at me, and ducked as she sent the cork flying into the wall above me. It landed smack in the middle of the poster, and it didn’t seem like an accident.

‘So, tell me,’ she said, settling down in front of me again and drizzling Prosecco into our glasses. ‘How’d it go with Mr Fforbes?’

‘He’s a psycho,’ I said and took a gulp of the fizzy stuff. It made me wince. It was really very fizzy, and dry and tart, to boot. I took a deep breath, and gulped some more down.

She laughed dirtily and then, after a look at my deadpan expression, her eyes widened.

‘What d’you mean, a psycho?’ she said, taking a gulp of her wine.

‘I mean, a psycho,’ I said, swigging more of my own. ‘Psychotic. Truly. I was lucky to get out alive.’

She giggled. ‘Was it that good, then?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I mean, yes, it was, but…’ I leaned forward and looked her in the eye. ‘…He’s a genuine psycho, Liv. I mean, a real one.’

‘No, really?’ She looked mystified. ‘In what way?’

I couldn’t help myself, my voice went down to a whisper. ‘He’s killed women, Liv. At least two, to my knowledge.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She laughed, and took another gulp of wine. ‘He’s a friend of Max’s.’

‘I know,’ I said, although – with everything going on – I’d completely forgotten. Oh God… ‘Max warned me about him. He told me he’d assaulted some girl.’

‘And you still went out with him?’ Liv shook her head. ‘I’d have thought that was the last thing you’d need, after Leo.’

She was right, of course. I should’ve listened to Max. What had I been thinking of? Truth to tell, I hadn’t been thinking at all, ever since I’d left Leo. ‘After Nathaniel Fforbes,’ I said, with feeling. ‘Leo is a saint. I think I might miss him.’

‘No.’ Liv topped up my glass, then her own. ‘No, Grace. Listen to me. We don’t need men. I don’t need Gav. You don’t need Leo, and you certainly don’t need Nathaniel fucking Fforbes.’

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘He’s a murderer, Liv. I can hardly believe it.’

She stood up, glass in hand, with the air of someone about to make a great speech. ‘All men are murderers, Grace,’ she declaimed, pausing to take another sip of wine. ‘Every time they use us, or abuse us, or dump us, a tiny part of us dies. They’re all killers.’

The enormity of the situation appeared to be lost on her but, at that moment, I didn’t care. Her insouciance made the whole scenario seem less real – less scary – and it grounded me a little.

‘You’re probably right,’ I said, doubtfully.

‘You can count on it, hon,’ she said. ‘Come on let’s go and get wasted.’

    Three

Him

It was late evening, when Lionel finally arrived. He was dressed in a pale grey suit, complete with cravat, and his face was a ruddy red from the sun. ‘Sorry, my boy,’ he said, striding into the interview room, his hand outstretched. ‘Been at the races. What the hell are you doing back in here? Missing the place, were you?’

‘Lionel,’ I said, shaking his hand in relief. My claustrophobia had been playing up again in the cell, and it was a relief to see him. Short of going to Giles again, cap in hand, Lionel was my best hope of getting out of this place. ‘It’s the same girl as before.’

‘But murder this time. You’ve certainly upped the ante. Hmm.’ He sat down at the table and read through the charge sheet. He looked up at me. ‘Did you do it?’

‘Lionel.’ I tried to keep my voice level. At the end of the day, Lionel didn’t give a fuck if I’d done it. He just wanted to know how best to play it and, for that, he needed my honesty. ‘Have you ever known me to misbehave?’

‘Well, you and Aimee…’ he said, musingly.

‘That was over ten years ago.’ I sat back in my chair, pissed off. People still had to bring that up, even after everything. ‘We’d barely come down from Uni. Kids will be kids.’

‘Hmm,’ he said again. ‘I see her name’s on here, too.’

‘Yes.’ I looked away, not from Lionel but from the charge sheet. I couldn’t bear that her name was on there. I’d tried my best, ever since the whole business, to make up for it, but somehow it just wouldn’t go away. That it’d come up now – especially linked to the whole Charlotte fiasco – was yet another kick in the teeth. I knew I was guilty – I didn’t need reminding.