Whatever he paid her, she was certainly worth it. For the first time in recent days, I didn’t feel ashamed of myself, or my desires. I’d known, deep down, that my behaviour was a reaction to recent events, but she’d made me see that it didn’t make me a bad person. I just had to think; did I really want to live my fantasies, or was it just a way of getting back at Leo?

When she’d asked me, I hadn’t been able to answer.

As I’d said goodbye, she’d put a hand on my arm.

‘If you do follow through with your fantasy,’ she said. ‘Let our friend help you. A good fantasy is safe…controlled by you. If you go out there and find it somewhere else, it won’t be safe. It won’t be anything like you imagine.’

As I made my way back to Liv’s, through the late London rush hour, I thought hard about what she’d said. I’d expected her to tell me I shouldn’t even think about it, but she seemed to understand that it was no good telling me anything. I had to decide for myself.

I looked down at the information sheets in my hand. They detailed different techniques for recognising unhelpful beliefs, and distancing yourself from them. I was supposed to practise them daily until our next appointment…if I felt another one would be helpful.

I still wasn’t sure, but I was determined to practise the techniques. I finally felt like I might be in control of my own behaviour.

    Ten

Him

It was well after four by the time Lionel arrived. By the time I finally got out of there, it was gone half past. I’d been charged with ABH, despite all my protests, but that was the least of my worries at that moment. I hailed a cab to take me from Chelsea to the City and, as soon as it pulled away, I took my phone out of the bag of possessions they’d grudgingly handed over before I left. To my mortification, they’d taken everything from my pockets – including my business cards.

Something that had started off as a wry joke was getting rapidly out of hand. I’d been questioned about the Filth Monger title at some length. In fact, if they hadn’t had that to go on, I might have been out a lot quicker. I wasn’t allowed within fifty metres of Charlotte’s flat now, which suited me just fine. I’d have been happier at that moment to be fifty miles away, at the very least. God, she must be feeling smug now, the crazy bitch.

I switched on my phone, ostensibly to check if Rick had been in touch, but the truth was that I was hoping Grace had called. There had been a call, and it was from a number I didn’t recognise. My breath caught in my throat. It had to be her. I took a deep breath and rang the number.

There was no reply. I sagged into the creased leather of the seat and stared out the window at the building traffic. Rush hour had already started, and it was cutting it extremely fine. I had to get to the bank, though. So much depended on it.

I leaned forward. ‘Can’t you take a short cut?’ I said. The traffic was frustratingly slow – inching forward a few yards every now and then, before grinding to a halt again.

‘This is the short cut,’ the driver threw back, over his shoulder. ‘It’s not a race, you know.’

But it was a race. Not against the traffic, but the clock. As the minutes went by, I grew increasingly anxious and, when my phone suddenly rang, I physically jumped.

I stared at the screen for a moment. It was the number I’d rung, returning my call. I didn’t answer immediately. If it was Grace, I wanted to get it right. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and have her think I was even more of an idiot than she already did. I remembered the business card I’d given her. The Filth Monger. I was an idiot.

Finally, I put the phone to my ear. ‘Hello?’

It was a woman’s voice, breathy and excited. ‘Hello? Is…is that the Filth Monger?’

The voice was different than I remembered Grace’s – younger sounding and more well-spoken. It wasn’t that Grace had a strong accent, it was just that hers was more Home Counties. This girl was public school, through and through. If it wasn’t Grace, then who the hell was it?

‘Ye…es,’ I said, warily. Surely it wasn’t Charlotte? She’d managed a passable imitation of a well-spoken accent, only that morning. Was she calling to gloat?

There was a brief pause, as if the caller wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe it was Grace, then, after all.

‘Who is this?’ I said, looking at my watch.

‘It’s Felicity – Felicity Flint.’

Fuck. Definitely not Grace. Probably just as well. I couldn’t see her being interested in a guy who was waiting on a court date for assaulting a woman. She had enough going on. In my heart, I knew I needed to give her a wide berth, but why the hell was Felicity Flint calling me? Of all the people I didn’t want to speak to at the moment, she was pretty near the top of the list. Certainly while that tape was floating about…

‘Uh…’ I hesitated, wondering where the hell this was going. What could she possibly want with me? I hoped she wasn’t after another assignation.

‘You do remember me, don’t you?’ Her voice had taken on a pettish tone. It was her all right, no doubt about it. Giles’s spoilt little primadonna of a daughter; willing dogger and, if I didn’t get my hands on that tape, soon-to-be unwilling porn star.

‘Yes,’ I said, with an inward sigh. ‘Of course I remember you. How…how are things, Felicity?’

I heard her inhale sharply, and my throat constricted, as if in sympathy. It wasn’t sympathy though…it was panic. What had happened?

‘Well.’ She didn’t sound worried – more excited, and when she spoke again the words came tumbling out over each other, as if she couldn’t get them out quickly enough. ‘That’s why I was ringing you. You’ll never guess, but I had to ring you. You were so kind to me, the other night after those other guys…well, you know. Anyway, I had to tell you…I’ve found someone.’

Her triumphant tone was lost on me. I was looking at my watch. It was gone ten to five, and the taxi was still nowhere near Lombard Street.

‘Found who?’ I said, trying to focus. It wasn’t easy. The traffic was at its usual rush-hour standstill, and even as I watched, the seconds ticked away on my watch…closer and closer to five o’clock.

‘I’ve found a boyfriend,’ she gushed. ‘I thought about what you said…you know, about having everything going for me, and I started to feel more confident. Anyway, I went out a couple of nights ago and, well, I met Hugh. Oh God, he’s lovely, and he’s rich, so he’s not after me for my money. I…I think he honestly likes me.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off my watch. ‘That’s great, Felicity,’ I said, shoving a twenty pound note at the taxi driver, and motioning at the door. The lock clicked, and I pushed open the door, into the oncoming traffic. ‘I’m pleased to hear that. Well done.’

She said something else, but I couldn’t hear it above the sound of the horns blaring. Several drivers had stopped and, disregarding their shouts and gestures, I ran across the road in front of them, pushing through the crowds heading towards Bank underground. I dodged through more traffic to cross Threadneedle Street, and then raced down Lombard Street, pushing through the oncoming commuters and apologising breathlessly.

As I got closer to the bank, the crowds thinned out, and the noise died down slightly. Blocking out as much as possible with my other hand, I held the phone to my ear again, as I jogged the last few yards to the bank.

‘What was that, Felicity?’ I gasped, panting.

‘I said, thank you Filth Monger, whoever you are.’

I could still hardly hear her but, even so, I could tell she meant it. Her voice throbbed with sincerity. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve given me my self-esteem back. I don’t know how to repay you.’

‘Really,’ I said, my breath coming hard and fast, and my stomach lurching. ‘You’ve no reason to thank me.’