And what a treat. She came out, filling the basque beautifully, walking slowly and predatorily in her heels, a lascivious smile on her face. Once in the bedroom she moved the armchair to the end of the bed and proceeded to put on a show for him involving at least half of the toys he had just bought. He was pleased he had remembered the batteries.

He was so excited he almost came there and then but she wouldn’t let him. A quick change of costume and she joined him on the bed, making use of the lotions and oils. She smiled all the while at his reaction to her perfect and surprisingly gymnastic body as she joined it with his rather less than lithe one.

As he was about to come, Erin controlling and restraining the juddering, electric orgasm that was ready to burst from within him, she asked once again about promotion. Yes, he had gasped. Whatever. She went on to tell him how good she was at her job and whose job she thought she should have. Naturally, he agreed. That person needed sacking. Would he do it? He would. And give her the job instead? Yes. Yes. Yes. She smiled. Good. And allowed him to come.

He pulled the key out of the ignition, grabbed his briefcase, got out. His senses had been left reeling from his encounter, with more than his mind blown. As he walked up the drive he thought back over the promise he had made. He had known it wasn’t in his power to hire and fire. But Erin didn’t know that. Okay, perhaps he had exaggerated his importance and position in the company. So what? All men did that. Especially to impress women. He had promised her the job, yes, and she had reminded him of that promise as he had left, but again, so what? What could she do about it? He would tell her that, boss or not, these things took time, there were procedures to be gone through, but not to worry. She would get the job. No hurry. Yeah. String her along. And in the meantime . . .

He smiled. Best of all, he had put the whole afternoon, including his purchases, on expenses. Whatever, it was definitely better than paying for it.

As he approached the house, it felt like a black cloud was descending over him. With every step that took him nearer to his front door, the cloud darkened until it was almost pitch black as he put his key in the lock. He reluctantly tried to force Erin out of his mind as he prepared to confront Caroline. He had an excuse ready for being late - a meeting went on longer than expected, a client turned up he had to see, something like that, the usual - but to be honest, he didn’t care. He’d had enough of seeing her pained, pale face haunting the house as she dragged her lumpen body around, never happy. Put her next to Erin and there was no comparison. Before the pregnancy, maybe. The first one. But not now. Perhaps he should do something about that. Something to seriously think about.

He opened the door. He sighed, shook his head and entered. Should he shout? Tell her he was home? No. She might be sleeping. Hopefully.

He put his keys on the table as he always did. The hallway was in darkness. He tried the switch. It didn’t work. Puzzled, he walked down the hall. Opened the living room door. Ready for arguments, ready for misery. Ready for any of the normal responses he was greeted with when he arrived home.

But he wasn’t ready for this.

The lights were on in here.

He screamed.

And screamed and screamed and screamed.

50

Clayton pulled deep on his Marlboro Light, held it and exhaled slowly, feeling his body relax against the side of his BMW as he did so. He was in the car park behind the police station. It was freezing. He was trying not to let the cold get to him. But his chattering teeth betrayed him.

What a balls-up. The whole thing. What a balls-up.

Sophie in the interview room, and then Brotherton. Phil hadn’t been able to break him. Even with all the circumstantial evidence, CCTV footage, everything, he still couldn’t do it. They were all coming to the conclusion that maybe Brotherton actually was innocent. And Clayton was off the case. Unable to influence it. His future in everyone else’s hands. He hated that most of all.

Another drag, and another exhale. Movement at the back of the police station caught his eye. Anni was striding out of the building, wearing her usual T-shirt and jeans but with no jacket, arms tightly wrapped around her body in a vain attempt to keep out the cold. She approached him, slowed. Stood opposite him as he smoked. Said nothing.

Clayton swallowed. Again. Took another drag. She was making him nervous. He was letting her. He had no choice. He looked at her. She was waiting for him to speak. He noticed that his stomach flipped and his breathing had quickened. His teeth were still chattering. He tried to stop them.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

Anni’s face remained impassive. ‘What for?’

‘You know.’The wall to the left of her shoulder was fascinating; he kept his eyes on it.

‘Yes,’ she said, a trace of angry emotion seeping into her voice, ‘I know. But I want to hear you say it.’

He took another drag of the cigarette, tried again to keep his teeth still in his mouth. Exhaled. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For not grassin’ me up to Phil.’

She said nothing. Waiting once more.

Clayton felt that since it had now been acknowledged between them, he was expected to say something further. ‘I recognised her straight away,’ he said. ‘At the metal yard. And I thought . . .’ He sighed. ‘Maybe I could get something from her, something important that I could use for the investigation. Now, I know I was bein’ selfish, not thinkin’ of the team—’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Clayton, I saw what happened. ’

Another sigh. ‘It was just the once,’ he said. ‘Last night in the car.’

‘I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know.’ She still wouldn’t look at him.

‘Yeah . . . just the once. That’s all it was.’ He fell silent. Risked a glance at her. He was sure she had been looking at him when he had been looking elsewhere, sure her eyes had just darted away from his. ‘It was . . . I’ve never done anything like that before.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Whatever, but look—’

This time she looked at him. Directly at him. And her eyes were so fierce and strong, he wished she hadn’t. ‘Clayton, when I say I don’t care, I don’t care. It’s none of my business what you get up to in your own time.’

Clayton frowned. Wasn’t she angry because she had seen him with another woman? Wasn’t that it? ‘I just thought because of, you know, the other night, that you were—’

She gave a laugh, harsh and abrasive. ‘What? You think because we had a fumble that somehow we’re . . . what? Lovers? That I’ve caught you cheating on me? Is that it?’

‘Well, yeah . . .’

Another laugh, just as harsh but more disbelieving. She shook her head. ‘That’s what you think this is all about? Really? You arrogant bastard.’

‘So . . . why then?’

She gave him the pitying kind of look she would reserve for a backward child. ‘Think about it. Because, Clayton, you were spotted in a car with a witness who was, as the tabloids say, performing a sex act on you. While under surveillance. Doesn’t that scream unprofessional conduct to you? Conflict of interests, at the very least? Don’t you think it’s the kind of thing that could put a conviction in jeopardy? Not to mention this shining career you think you’re going to have.’

‘Well, yeah. When you put it like that, yeah.’

‘So?’

‘I know that. I just thought, you know. You were mad at me because of, you know. Us.’

Anni looked him directly in the eye. There were things she was about to say but she stopped herself. Instead she shook her head and walked off. ‘I’m going back inside.’

Clayton flicked his cigarette away, turned to follow her. ‘Me too.’

She turned to him as she kept walking, her arms still wrapped tightly round her body. ‘Piss off, Clayton. Leave me alone.’