I couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. In fact, by the end of the week, I think Max would have welcomed Liv back with open arms, I was so inattentive and careless in my work.

‘For Christ’s sake, Grace.’ He came out of his office on the Friday morning with a care-worn expression, brandishing a sheaf of documents. ‘I know it’s your first week back, but make some effort to get things right, can’t you? I need these on my desk first thing after lunch.’

‘Yes, Max. Sorry.’ I took the papers, quickly slipping the letter I’d been reading underneath them. It was the results of my tests. They were clear, thank God, and now I had to make the decision of whether or not to inform Nathaniel.

Did I really want to go through with it? I thought back to the previous Friday night, when I’d watched Martine getting ruined by the group of guys. Did I want that? Really?

I told myself firmly that I did. It was what I’d wanted all the way along, ever since Leo had ruined my fantasy. I glanced over at Max’s office. He was deep in conversation on the phone, so I took my chance and got out my phone.

It’s Grace Anderton, I texted. Test results are back. We are good to go!

I hoped the jokey tone might do something to soften his attitude towards me, but I had to wait until the afternoon to find out. I heard the text come in sometime after three, but I was still working my way half-heartedly through Max’s corrections. I didn’t get a chance to look at my phone until I left work at five, by which time I was half-dead with frustration.

Congratulations, Miss Anderton. Stephens will be with you for seven tomorrow. Dress to impress. Bring with you any clothes, objects or paraphernalia you so choose. We aim to please.

I stared at my phone, re-reading the message and willing it to be more…personal. Congratulations…was he being sarcastic, or was it his attempt at a joke? It was hard to be sure of anything with him, and We aim to please…what the hell was that? Who was we, exactly? Was that his way of including Ronnie? He could hardly have distanced himself any more than in those four small words.

I shrugged. It was a business arrangement. I might not get the guy, but I’d get what I’d been hurtling into brake-free ever since I’d been single, and safely. It had to be worth it or, at least, that’s what I told myself.

By the time I got back to Liv’s, I was a bundle of nerves. Fortunately, Liv had a gig that night. She seemed totally loved up with Gav again, for reasons I still couldn’t fathom, and they were in her bedroom together when I got in.

I was relieved in a way. I had so much to think about, and so little I could actually talk about. Well, apart from Saturday Siesta, and I didn’t want to talk about that. I didn’t even want to think about it. The thought of being live on TV in front of half the nation was enough to make me want to blot the whole thing out. I sat alone at the kitchen table, poking morosely at a bowl of soup with my spoon and wondering what the hell I was going to say.

In the end, I had another early night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, so I settled down at just after nine but, with everything whirling in my mind, I couldn’t sleep. In the end, to soothe myself, I let my hand slip down between my thighs. I moved my fingers for a few minutes but, in the end, I gave up. I just didn’t fancy it. It was as if, now my fantasy was so close to becoming reality, I’d lost interest.

Or maybe only the reality will cut it now, I told myself. That must be it. I could hardly enjoy the mere thought of something that, the very next night, I was going to experience in the flesh. I turned over, satisfied for the moment by that explanation and, after tossing and turning for an hour or so, finally slipped into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

    Thirty Six

Him

The divorce papers arrived on the Saturday.

I admit to being totally blind-sided by them. Monique, one of the hotel receptionists gave them to me, as I was walking through the foyer on the way back from my morning run in Hyde Park. It was another glorious day, but I’d hardly noticed it. It had been a shit week. I’d finally sorted the Rick fiasco, but I was still dwelling on his death and what to do for his family. I had to be circumspect, because he still hadn’t been reported missing and I didn’t want to raise suspicions.

Added to which – and I hardly liked to admit it to myself, but this was the main cause of my low mood – tonight, I had the dubious joy of handing the little angel I’d sworn to protect over to a pack of my best men. And they were good men, there was no doubt about it, but they’d regress to animals, when presented with a prize like her. She was a cut above their usual fare, and then some.

I took the papers up to my apartment and sat on the bed reading them.

It was the end of an era, and not a happy one, at that. It wasn’t Ronnie’s fault. It was mine, if anything. If it hadn’t been such a difficult time for me, I’d probably never have latched onto her or, at least, I’d have thought more about the long-term. Mind you, no one could’ve predicted how she’d change – not even her at that point. It wasn’t her fault though – she couldn’t help who she was, after all.

I went to have a shower and, when I came out, my phone was ringing. It was her. At first, I only stared at the phone, not wanting to make the whole thing real.

‘My love?’ she said, when I finally answered. ‘Tell me you’re not cross.’

‘Not cross, Ronnie.’ I sat down on my bed. ‘More shell-shocked. I suppose I should thank you, to be honest. You know I’ll look after you.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘You always have, Nat. I should’ve done this a long time ago. It wasn’t fair of me.’

‘I’ve never blamed you.’ I rubbed at my hair hard with a towel. ‘I could’ve instigated proceedings.’

She laughed. ‘You never would have. Your loyalty knows no bounds.’

It was only very gentle teasing, I knew, because she was only half joking.

‘Tell me one thing, Ronnie.’ I left off drying my hair, as the thought struck me. ‘It doesn’t matter, after all this time, you know that, but is there someone else?’

Her voice, was bright and cheerful but, I could tell, underneath, she was trying not cry. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘I think there might be. She just doesn’t know it yet.’

The phone went dead and I sat there, alone in my bedroom – as usual - wondering what in the hell that was supposed to mean.

I lay on my bed for a while after that. In one week, I’d lost the two women I’d come closest to loving since Aimee, and I’d lost all motivation to do…well…anything. I finally got up to go and fix myself some lunch and switched on the TV in the kitchen.

The adverts had just finished, and a programme was coming on. It was that show – Saturday something-or-other. A magazine programme, filled with celebrity chat and fashion tips, cookery and general interest stories, it was the polar opposite of my kind of viewing, especially today. I looked for the remote to switch to the news.

I’d just found it, and was about to turn over, when I stopped suddenly and looked at the screen. At first, I’d thought I was hearing things, but no…

‘Coming up next, the delightful Grace Anderton will be telling us all about her notorious split from the legendary midfielder, Leo Sparkes.’

The camera zoomed in on her, already in position on a sofa in the studio. She was more perched than sitting, her slim legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She looked scared to death. I groaned aloud. It was as if she were taunting me. God, I hated these kinds of programmes.

What the hell was she doing on it? The legendary midfielder…it said it all. No one outside of the die-hard fans had so much as heard of Leo Sparkes until a week or so ago. The only thing he was legendary for was for screwing some cheap tart behind his girlfriend’s back.