‘Nonsense!’ she said desperately. ‘You’re creating a sentimental fantasy but the truth is what’s on the surface. I have no heart because I’ve no use for one. Who needs it?’

‘That’s your defence, is it?’ he asked slowly. ‘Who needs a heart? I think you do, Pippa.’

‘Mr Havering, I am a lawyer; you are my client. My private life does not concern you.’

Her voice was soft but he heard something in it that was almost a threat, and he backed off, worried more for her than for himself. There seemed no end to the things he was discovering about her, but he feared to put a foot wrong, lest he harm her.

‘All right, I’m sorry,’ he said in a soothing voice. ‘It’s none of my business, after all. Don’t cry.’ He could feel her shaking against him.

‘I’m not crying,’ she said. ‘I’m laughing. Me, saying I’m a lawyer and you’re a client, when we’re lying here-’

‘Yes, we’ve got a bit beyond that point, haven’t we?’ he said. ‘We’ve both experienced things to make us bitter. Like the way when someone has promised to marry you, they become the person above all others you have to beware of.’

‘That’s true,’ she said in a voice of discovery. ‘Once you start twining your life with theirs, they have a whole sheaf of weapons in their hands-the house you chose together, the secrets you tell each other-all the things they know about you that you desperately wish they didn’t. Ouch!’

She gasped for Roscoe’s hands had suddenly tightened.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Did that last one-?’

‘Struck right home,’ he agreed, drawing her head down against his chest once more. ‘You brood about it, which is nonsense because she and her new love have other things to talk about apart from you. But you picture them laughing, and wonder how you could ever have trusted her so much.’

‘And then you don’t want to trust anyone again,’ she whispered. ‘So you promise yourself that you won’t.’

‘But it isn’t so easy. If you go through life drawing away from people, at last you turn into a monster. I don’t want to turn into a monster, although several people would probably tell you that’s what I am.’

‘Sometimes it feels safer,’ she agreed.

‘I won’t believe anyone’s ever said it of you.’

‘Why? Because I’ve got a pretty face? Haven’t you ever heard of a pretty monster? It’s all part of the performance, you see. The lad who was here the first night, the one I half crippled, don’t you think he sees me as a monster?’

‘That doesn’t mean you are one,’ he said with a touch of anger in his voice. ‘Stop this.’

‘I led him on, didn’t I? You’d think I’d know better by now, but a girl must have some fun in her life. You knew that, even then. That’s why you hired me.’

He groaned and raised his hands to cover his eyes. ‘And this is what he did to you? Your fiancé?’

‘Or maybe I was always like that. It’s hard-wired into me and it took him to bring it out.’

‘You don’t really believe any of that stuff.’

‘Don’t tell me what I believe.’

‘I will because someone’s got to show you how to see yourself straight. You’re as beautiful inside as you are out.’

She pulled herself up on the bed so that she could see him better in the dim light and pull his hands down.

‘We’ve known each other only a few days,’ she reminded him.

‘I’ve known you a lot longer than that. I knew it when I saw you in the graveyard, swapping jokes with a headstone. It was the kind of mad, daft-’

‘Mutton-headed,’ she supplied.

‘Glorious, wonderful-I knew then that you had some secret that was hidden from me, that you could teach it to me and then I’d know something that would make life possible.’

He lay looking up at her, defenceless, all armour gone, nothing left but the painful honesty with which he reached out to her.

Pippa felt dizzy, knowing that she’d come to one of those moments when everything in her life might depend on what she did now. Roscoe’s eyes told her that this was her decision, and she was stunned by how quickly it had come to pass. Just a few days.

He was reasonably attractive without being handsome. Yet the experience he’d given her tonight-of peace, joy and safety-had astounded her by outshining all other experiences in her life, and now the desire to kiss him was the strongest she had ever known. The tantalising half kiss he’d once given her had lived with her ever since, taunting and teasing her onwards to discover everything about him.

His eyes asked a silent question. Would she kiss him? The decision was hers.

And yes! Yes! The answer was yes!

As she adjusted her position he saw her intention and opened his arms. A little smile curved her lips, one she hoped he would understand. He did understand. The same smile was there on his own lips as she leaned forward, closer-closer-

The doorbell shrieked.

In an instant the spell died. They froze in dismay.

‘At this hour of night?’ Pippa whispered, aghast.

Stiffly, she moved off the bed and made her way to the front door, calling, ‘Who is it?’

The voice that answered appalled her.

‘Pippa? It’s Charlie. Let me in.’

She turned to see Roscoe standing in the bedroom doorway. Horrified, they stared at each other. Nothing more terrible could have happened.

‘Let me in,’ Charlie cried.

‘No, I can’t,’ Pippa called back. ‘Charlie, go home; it’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘Oh, please, Pippa. I’ve got something to say that you’ll be glad to hear. Open up!’ He rapped on the door.

‘Stop making so much noise,’ she cried. ‘You’ll wake my neighbours. Just give me a minute.’

She was talking for the sake of it while her gaze frantically went around the apartment, seeking evidence of Roscoe’s presence. He was doing the same, seizing his baggage, hurrying with it into the bedroom. When he was safely out of sight, Pippa opened her front door.

Charlie immediately came flying through and seized her in his arms.

‘What…what do you think you’re doing?’ she spluttered.

‘Telling you that I’ve given in. I’ll do it your way. I’ll tell the police about Ginevra. I’ve been thinking for hours, and I know I have to do what you think is right.’ He searched her face. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’

‘Pleased?’ she snapped. ‘Of all the selfish schoolboy pranks-waking me at this hour to tell me something you could have sent in a text message. How old are you? Ten?’

She was consumed by rage. At this moment she could almost have hated the silly self-centred boy.

‘Oh, sorry!’ he said. ‘Yes, I suppose it is a bit late.’

‘Get out, now!’

Reading dire retribution in her eyes, he backed out hastily, gabbling, ‘All right, all right. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

He was gone.

She listened as the footsteps faded, followed by the sound of the elevator going down. Roscoe emerged from the bedroom, walking slowly, not coming too close to her.

The memory of what had so nearly happened was burning within her. Another moment and she would have been in his arms, kissing him and receiving his kiss in return. She had wanted that so much and come so close-so close-and it had been cruelly snatched away.

What she saw when she looked at him made a cold hand clutch her heart. His face was calm and untroubled. Whatever had happened to her, no earthquake had shaken him.

‘I’d better leave now,’ he said.

‘No!’ she said urgently. ‘That’s what you can’t do. He might linger downstairs, and then he’d see you.’

Going to the window, she drew the curtain an inch and looked into the street below.

‘There’s his new car,’ she murmured. ‘But there’s no sign of him. I reckon he’s still in the hall, planning to come back up here.’

‘You’re right,’ Roscoe groaned. ‘I’ll have to stay for a while. Sorry.’

A few minutes earlier she’d felt him tremble in her arms and known that he would gladly remain all night. Now he spoke as though staying with her was a duty that he dreaded.

‘I’ll stay out here,’ he said, settling on the sofa. ‘You take the bedroom.’

The spell was broken. And that was good, she tried to tell herself. She’d had enough of spells.

She lay awake for the rest of the night, and finally went out to find Roscoe on the phone to Angela.

‘Charlie’s arrived home,’ he said as he hung up.

‘Don’t mention Charlie to me,’ she said crossly. ‘Turning up like that in the middle of the night! Does he think nobody has a life apart from him? I feel really sorry for your mother, pinning so many of her hopes on that overgrown infant.’

She was still full of nerves or she would have been careful not to say the next words.

‘She’s had so much to bear in her life already. Losing your father, knowing he killed himself-’

Too late, she saw the strange look on Roscoe’s face.

‘How did you know that?’ he asked. ‘Charlie, I suppose?’

‘I already knew. David said something.’

‘So you’ve known from the start. You never mentioned it to me.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t like it, and it was none of my business.’

‘That’s right,’ he said lightly. ‘Well, I’d better be going.’

She could have kicked herself. Roscoe’s cool tension told her more than any words that he resented her for what she’d just revealed. In time, he might have told her, but he disliked her knowing without his being aware.

‘I’ll make you some breakfast,’ she offered.

‘No, I’d better be off. I’ll be in touch.’

She doubted it. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

There was nothing to do but stand back while he collected his things. Suddenly a chill wind was blowing. He gave her a polite smile, thanked her for everything, just as he should, but something was mysteriously over. Worst of all was the fact that she couldn’t be sure what had ended, because she didn’t know what had begun. She only knew that the sense of aching loss was unbearable.


Then a strange thing happened. Charlie became elusive. He didn’t call, wasn’t in his office and his cellphone was switched off. Without him, the trip to the police had to be postponed.

After two days, Roscoe texted: Is Charlie with you?

She texted back: I was about to ask you the same thing.

The next time Pippa’s work phone rang it was the last person in the world she’d expected to hear from.

‘Biddy-or should I call you Ginevra? Where are you?’

‘Abroad; that’s all you need to know. Charlie’s a real gent, I’ll say that for him. I’m not coming back but I’ve written to the police and told them it was me in the shop, not him. I wasn’t going to, but then I got to thinking I owed him something, so I sent the letter from…the country I was in. I’m in a different place now, so the postmark won’t help them. But I wanted you to know about something else, so listen.’

Pippa did so, growing wide-eyed as Ginevra’s information grew clear.

‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘That’ll be very useful. Where can I get hold of you?’

‘I’m moving around, but you can call this mobile number. I’ve sent you a copy of the letter so that you’ll know exactly what I told the police. ’Bye.’

She hung up.

Pippa sat, deep in thought. Then she made a call.

‘Gus Donelly? Good, I need your help, fast. Listen carefully.’ After a terse conversation she swept out, announcing, ‘I won’t be back today.’

David, who’d been shamelessly eavesdropping, exclaimed, ‘Donelly? I seem to recall that he’s a private detective, and a very shady one. I hope you’re careful.’

Pippa was not only careful but successful. Returning, triumphant, she knew she had all she needed to achieve a victory-thanks, ironically, to Ginevra.

Charlie presented himself at her office with a shamefaced smile that was clearly meant to win her over. She dealt with him briskly.

‘So much for telling everything to the police! You offered a grand gesture that meant nothing. Now there’s no need. I’ll see you at the trial tomorrow. Now, go before I lose my temper.’

He fled.

The next day, they were all present in the courtroom- Angela clinging to Charlie’s arm, Charlie trying to read Pippa’s expression without success, Roscoe, aloof and isolated.

The court assembled, the magistrates seated themselves, the accused were produced. Mr Fletcher entered the witness box and Pippa confronted him. There was nothing in her manner to suggest tension. On the contrary, she seemed at ease, cheerful and smiling. So that the sarcastic words that poured from her came as a greater shock.

‘Tell the truth, Mr Fletcher. You haven’t the faintest idea what actually happened that night, have you?’

‘I certainly have,’ he declared indignantly. ‘I gave a full statement to the police.’

‘Your statement is an invention. You should take up fiction writing, you do it so well.’