Текст книги "Falling from Grace "

Автор книги: Annabel Chant

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Twelve

Giles watched the screen intently. I just hoped he’d be pleased with how it all panned out. I wasn’t, not really, but if it had the desired outcome, all well and good. I had a favour to ask him, and I needed him to be satisfied.

Felicity was sitting up on the picnic bench now, looking around at the guys in confusion. ‘Wait… what are you doing?’

To a man, they were following orders, even Rick. As each one did up their fly and turned away, she looked panicked. ‘Where are you going?’ She spoke quickly and her voice was high-pitched. ‘Don’t you want more?’

It was Matt that broke the news. ‘Nah… thanks babe. That’s your lot.’

‘But what…why?’

Rick turned back to her. ‘No offense, love, but you’re a slapper. Girls like you…you’re good for one thing, get it?’ He seemed to be enjoying it. I gritted my teeth, and forced myself to carry on watching. ‘I’ve got a wife, see? She’s a good girl, and I love her. I wouldn’t swap her for a whore like you, not for the world.’

‘Yeah,’ Matt was almost sneering. If they were just following orders, they’d outdone themselves, but I had a feeling they were really getting off on it. ‘Cheap slags like you are just there to be used, babe. Sort yourself out.’

I stayed, watching them walk off back to their cars, while she just sat there, speechless, on the bench. Only Alex stayed with me. He was still videoing –making sure he got the evidence for Giles. She didn’t even seem to notice.

I could still hear their jeering as she got down from the picnic table, pulling her skirt down as she did so. She came over to me, stumbling again in her heels. This time, it wasn’t put on. I could tell. Her eyes were bright and she blinked hard. I knew she was fighting back the tears.

‘What about you?’ she said. ‘You’ve done nothing…said nothing. Why are you still here?’

I shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

She sniffed. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Her face bunched up, and a single tear escaped, rolling hard and fast down her cheek. ‘I’ll be all right.’

‘Are you going to do this again?’

She paused a moment, as if considering. She sniffed again. ‘I…don’t know. Are you offering?’

‘I’m not offering,’ I said. ‘No.’

‘Shame,’ she said, coming closer to me. She looked pitiful. Her face was clouded with misery, and her bruised breasts still hung free. She pressed them up against me, and rubbed them against my chest. I moved backward – away from them…from her. ‘You’re more my kind of guy,’ she added, following me. ‘Although…you remind me of my father.’

I felt Giles flinch, and cursed inwardly. I’d forgotten this bit. Why hadn’t Alex edited it out?

‘Your father?’ I echoed, holding my hand out to keep her from getting in close.

‘Yeah.’ She rolled her eyes, and gave a brief laugh. ‘There’s something about you. I don’t know. You’re good looking…well, you must know that…and attractive, but…’ She seemed to be struggling to find the words. ‘But ultimately…you’re untouchable.’

She was right there. She wasn’t going to touch me with a ten foot pole. I sidestepped another lunge, and took a deep breath. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Do you know what I think’s going on here?’

‘No,’ she said, her wide eyes trailing me up and down. ‘But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

‘Correct,’ I said. This was my last chance. I couldn’t fuck it up. ‘Look, I think you’re looking for something else.’ God, it sounded cheesy, but I had to get my point across. ‘You want to matter and, somehow, you’ve equated sex with love. The more sex you can get, the more you’re loved.’

I paused, waiting for the rebuttal, but it didn’t come. She just stood there looking at the floor, and started to drag her top back up over her mangled breasts. I pressed my advantage while I had it. ‘You’re not going to find love like this, you know. You’re just going to end up hurt…used.’

‘That’s all I’ve ever been,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Ah, but I do,’ I said. ‘More than you know. But you can’t let it dictate your life. You’ve got it all going on, Felicity. Trust me.’ I paused. I didn’t like lying, but I had to get my point across. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re clever and you’re rich. You’ve got the world at your feet. Don’t fuck it up.’

My words seemed to hit home. She looked up at me, her eyes full and wet, and she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and it sounded like she meant it. ‘I’ll try.’

‘And if you’re ever in trouble,’ I added. ‘Call me.’

I felt in my pocket for a pen and paper. I hadn’t meant to go this far, but I could sense she was sincere, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up. ‘Here,’ I said, scribbling down my mobile number.

She took it, and smiled at me. No hint of sexiness this time, just an honest-to-goodness smile. ‘What do I call you?’ she asked.

I hesitated. There was no way she was getting my real name. Should I make something up? I almost did, but it didn’t feel right. Then, for some reason, Charlotte’s words came back into my mind. She’d had the perfect name for me. ‘You can call me The Filth Monger,’ I said, with an inward smile.

‘I followed her home,’ I said. ‘Made sure she got there safely. It’s up to you now.’

Giles was silent. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and could only wait for him to break the ice. Finally, he stood up. ‘The Filth Monger,’ he said with a short bark of a laugh. ‘Most appropriate. Well…’ He walked over to the door. ‘Mission accomplished, it would seem.’

‘I have to keep the tape,’ I said, following him over. ‘For obvious reasons, but I can give you a copy if you need one.’

‘No,’ he shuddered visibly. ‘Once is more than enough. Keep it,’ he said. ‘But keep it safe. No fuck ups.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You have my word.’

‘I hope so.’ He opened the door, to show me out. ‘And if there’s anything I can do…’

I stopped there, in the doorway. This was my chance. ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘There is something I could use your help with…’

Thirteen

By the time Liv got in, I was asleep. I was so exhausted I’d eventually lain down and drifted off, even over the incessant throb of the music. I awoke to the sound of raised voices. The music had stopped and someone was crying – a low, wailing sound.

At first, I thought it was Liv, and I froze. I’d just got up, ready to go down and fight her corner, when I heard her shout something and the front door slammed. I went downstairs, hesitantly. I felt like I was intruding.

Liv was standing by the front door, looking at herself in a mirror. She was obviously dissatisfied with what she saw, because she leaned over and ruffled her short, dark hair, pushing at it to make it stand up. I didn’t know why she bothered. Her pixie-cut locks always looked immaculate, and framed her pale face, with its dark eyes and tip-tilted nose, perfectly. She was stunning in a thrown-together kind of way, and was never out of a pair of jeans outside of work. She span around when she heard my footsteps, and looked up at me. ‘Dick,’ she said, nodding towards the door with an apologetic smile. ‘Did we wake you, hon?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s fine.’

‘My fucking hair.’ She ran her fingers through it again, throwing her reflection a critical look.

‘It’s fine,’ I said again.

‘I’m growing it out.’ She turned back to me. ‘Fuck knows why.’

I laughed. ‘So what’s the deal with you and Nick Cave’s baby brother?’ I started to walk downstairs.

‘Don’t even ask.’ She gave a sad smile and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. ‘Musically, we’re compatible. Sexually… not so much… and domestically…’ She shuddered visibly. ‘I’m not his bloody mother!’

I reached the bottom of the stairs, and fell into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her as if she wanted to squeeze the hurt out of me. I started crying again. God, would I ever stop?

‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘It’s gonna be fine. Just let it all come out. I’ve got you.’

I went through the whole sobbing scenario all over again, right there in her hallway.

‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked, eventually. ‘I can’t seem to stop at the moment.’

‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘It’s been one day.’

She put her arm around my waist, and shepherded me through into her living room. It was magenta too, the paint daubed thickly over the wallpaper. Sagging patchwork sofas dominated the room, brought into focus by the open fireplace.

From the mantelpiece, a photo of her mum frowned down, flanked by growths of candle and incense sticks. It was practically a shrine, but Mum didn’t seem too impressed. She was probably pissed off by Liv’s refurbishment of the place, if that was the word I wanted. Looking at the heavy, black curtains and the cigarette burns on the carpet, refurbishment seemed an over-enthusiastic description, but the place suited Liv and, now Gav had gone, it suited me. Even so, I couldn’t stop moving, pacing again, restless.

‘You can stay as long as you want, hon,’ Liv said, lighting a cigarette. ‘No problem. Now, stop wearing out the shag pile, for fuck’s sake, and sit down.’

I did as I was bidden. ‘Thanks,’ I said, and I meant it so much. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I rang my sister…’

‘Don’t.’ Liv shot me a look of disdain. ‘That self-satisfied bitch. Talking of which, there’s something I should probably tell you, and you’re not going to like it…’

Fourteen

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ Liv came back into the living room carrying two cups of tea. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

She passed me mine – an old chipped mug with Garfield on it. It reminded me of a card Leo had bought me when we first started going out, and I felt the tears welling up again.

I looked up at the mantelpiece and told myself firmly it wasn’t that bad. No one had died. She went over to the window, and pushed open the heavy curtains. The evening sunlight filtered through and caught on the motes of dust floating in the room. I watched them absently, as she looked out at the garden.

‘Of course it’s not your fault,’ she said finally, turning to face me. She sat down in the armchair opposite me, and put her mug on the coffee table. ‘How could it be?’

‘But I told you,’ I ran my finger around the top of my cup, the chip snagging at my skin. ‘I wasn’t…satisfied.’

‘Nor was he.’ She gave a snort of disgust. ‘God knows why. Bottom line, you stayed faithful, he didn’t. So how is it your fault?’

‘The guy in Max’s office…’ I began.

‘Hell yeah.’ She picked up her cup and took a slurp of tea. ‘So you went weak at the knees? So did I. So did the entire female workforce of Ffyvells, I should think.’ She took another slurp. ‘Not to mention a fair percentage of the men. Jeremy, for one.’

‘He wasn’t there,’ I said vacantly, still swirling my fingertip around the mug. The chip caught it on each circuit. The certainty of it made it almost reassuring.

‘He wasn’t quite up to Max’s standard, though.’ She carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘He was a bit too…’

‘Perfect?’

‘…refined…for my taste.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘You know me…down and dirty.’

I managed a smile. ‘Yeah, Max is more of a bad boy, somehow, isn’t he?’

Liv laughed. ‘He’s a plaster saint compared to some of the boys I’ve known, but yeah,’ she drained her cup and slammed it down. ‘He’ll do for me.’

‘So…’ I couldn’t help myself. It hardly mattered any more, anyway. I had no one to feel guilty about. ‘Who was he? Do you know?’

‘The guy in Max’s office?’ Liv grinned. ‘That’s my girl. Sorry, but I’ve no idea. There was nothing in the diary though. Believe me – I looked. So I’d say either it was an emergency, or he’s a friend of Max’s.’

‘Or both,’ I said thoughtfully.

‘Whoever the hell he is,’ she stood up and went over to the mantelpiece. ‘He’s not the reason you’re sitting here tonight. You’re just trying to make allowances for your shitty boyfriend.’

‘Maybe if I’d been more attentive…’

Liv was straightening her mother’s photo but, at my words, she turned sharply and frowned at me. ‘He wouldn’t have hit you? Girls who get knocked about are usually very attentive, in my experience. I mean, you wouldn’t want to upset him, would you?’

‘I…’

‘Give him whatever he wants, forget to worry about what you need, isn’t that how it goes?’

‘But I…’ I tried to protest, but even I could feel the weakness in my voice.

Liv sat down next to me, and took my hands in hers. She looked into my eyes steadily. ‘Listen, Grace. Maybe this is the best thing that could’ve happened.’

I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I felt humiliated, all over again.

‘Do you think I haven’t noticed the bruises, hun?’ she said, softly. ‘I asked you the other week if everything was okay, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t talk.’

‘It’s only occasionally…when he’s had a drink.’ I could feel my cheeks burning with the admission. ‘And the others? Does everybody...’

‘I don’t think so.’ Liv lifted my mug to my lips. ‘You’re good with the concealer. It’s just…well, let’s say I know what to look for.’

I took a gulp of tea. It was full of sugar, sweet and milky, and barely luke warm. I took a deep breath, and drank it down as quickly as I could manage. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What happened?’

As Liv opened her mouth to reply, the doorbell rang. I was glad I’d drunk my tea, because I jumped violently.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Liv, with a grimace.

‘Is it…’ I whispered. ‘Is it her?’

‘Reckon so,’ she said, getting up reluctantly and heading to the door. She stopped in the doorway, and looked back. ‘Unless,’ she said, with a grin. ‘It’s Gav, back for round two.’

Of the two, I’d have preferred Gav.

I heard Liv answer the door, and the sound of a female voice – a voice I knew only too well. I sat there, gripping the edge of the sofa and wondering what to say to get rid of her.

Liv came back into the room. She went to speak, but someone pushed past her. ‘Oh my god, Grace. Just look at the state of you!’

It was Kitty Hart, WAG extraordinaire and wife of the fabled Johnno. Johnno was a legend among the fans. He’d been with the club since the youth team, and captain for nearly eight years. He was also the only other one, out of the six caught up in the Hull affair, that wasn’t single.

Kitty was leggy, blonde and busty. She was the archetypal bimbo, except that she wasn’t at all. It was an act, and she excelled at it. She was a business woman, through and through, even more popular among the male fans than Johnno, mainly due to her habit of appearing naked at every opportunity. Purely for profit, mind you, and nowadays only for the most select of men’s publications.

She was also the last person I wanted to see right now.

‘I’m sorry,’ Liv said, again. She’d been apologising ever since she’d got home. ‘I tried to put her off, but…’

‘I know.’ Kitty gave a ridiculous tinkly laugh. ‘Leo didn’t know where you were, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I went to your offices.’

‘I heard,’ I said, blankly.

‘And they wouldn’t say, but I could tell they knew, so…’

‘So she refused to leave,’ Liv butted in, angrily. ‘Max was furious.’

‘In the end you told me, didn’t you, Liv?’ Kitty threw her a conspiratorial smirk, which Liv deflected with a glare. ‘Yes,’ she said, reluctantly. ‘I didn’t have much choice…’

‘Anyway,’ Kitty continued, blithely. ‘Let me look at you.’

She pulled me up from the couch and dragged me over to the window. I stood there as she made her inspection. I was still wearing my work clothes, I suddenly remembered, from the morning before.

Kitty drew in her breath sharply. ‘You have taken it badly, darling, haven’t you? Look at you…you’re emaciated.’

‘I…’ I began, then looked down at myself. I hadn’t noticed, but she was right. My skirt was hanging down, standing away from my hips. It should have been snug to my waist. ‘I kept shaking,’ I said, lamely.

‘Look, lovey.’ Kitty pushed me back over to the sofa. ‘Sit down and listen. This is a golden opportunity for you. Fuck Leo. I’ve fucked Johnno off already. Told him I want a divorce. It’s you and me, now. We’ve got to take our moment to shine.’

‘Shine?’ I looked at Liv, then back at Kitty. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, no more moping around after that bastard,’ she said. ‘While you’ve been skulking around in this…’ She looked around her, as if for the first time, and grimaced. ‘…hellhole, I’ve been courting the press…issuing statements…press releases…generally playing the poor injured wifey. I’m knackered, believe me, but you’ve got to maximise your exposure while you can.’

‘But I don’t want exposure.’

The horror must’ve shown on my face, because she laughed and stroked my cheek. ‘Yes you do,’ she said. ‘Silly. Exposure equals earnings potential. If you’re really splitting up with Leo, you’re going to need money. You can’t survive on the money you make in that ridiculous job, now, can you?’

I expected Liv to butt in again at this point, furious, but she didn’t. I didn’t know what to say, and looked to her, hoping she’d argue my case. Instead, she looked at Kitty, then back at me. ‘I don’t know, Grace,’ she said, slowly. ‘I think she may be right.’

I didn’t know what to say. It was all too much…too sudden.

Kitty took matters into her own hands, anyway. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll ring Jimmy in the morning – let him know to get in touch with you.’

‘Who’s Jimmy?’ I said, feeling as if I’d missed part of the conversation.

‘My agent,’ she said, with another tinkly laugh. ‘Silly. Now get dressed.’

I looked down at myself, bewildered. ‘I am dressed.’

‘To. Go. Out.’ She looked at me doubtfully. ‘If you can find anything that fits you, that is. You did bring clothes, didn’t you?’

I nodded.

‘Real clothes, I mean,’ she added. ‘Dresses…heels…’

I nodded again, wishing I’d stopped earlier in my packing.

‘Good girl.’ She looked at her watch. ‘You’d better shower. We’ll go out…hit some clubs.’

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Not tonight.’

‘Oh, but you can.’ She pulled me up off the sofa again.

I went to protest, but Liv stood in front of me. ‘No she can’t. Not tonight.’

I’m sure my shoulders sagged visibly, but my relief was short-lived.

‘She’s going out with me tonight,’ Liv continued, in her firmest tone. ‘I’ve got a gig, and Grace’s coming to watch.’

It was the first I’d heard about it. I could only look on, wondering if it was finally going to kick off between them, but Kitty seemed oblivious to Liv’s ferocity.

She opened her mouth to argue, but appeared to think better of it, and yawned. ‘Okay,’ she said finally, coming forward to plant smacking kisses on my cheeks. ‘It was only a warm-up anyway. I could use some sleep, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t take you up on the offer. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow though, Grace, no excuses. We’re on the VIP list for the F Bar.’

And with that, she flounced out.

Fifteen

After seeing Giles, I drove to the address Charlotte had given me again, just to make sure the tenant I’d spoken to was correct. She could even have been lying. I wouldn’t have put it past Charlotte to be able to wrap the girl around her finger, and persuade her to cover her ass. She might even have been at the flat when I called by. I couldn’t take anything for granted now, and I certainly couldn’t just sit about, hoping Giles would make good on his promise. I’d been checking the news non-stop and nothing had come out yet, but I knew I couldn’t count on it staying that way.

The flat was above a dingy row of shops. They were mainly fast food places and restaurants; Indian, Turkish, Greek, and the air was suffused with the stench of hot fat. It made me want to heave. I left the car out the front, on the double yellows. I was risking a ticket, but I wanted it as close as I could get it, and a ticket was easier than the alternative. In this postcode, I was likely to come back to find my car missing its wheels, if I found it at all. Seemingly, it was the same for cats. At least, there were posters flapping from every lamp post, offering a reward for the return of a black and white one.

I walked up to the front door, lodged awkwardly between a butchers and a grocery store. It was old, covered in peeling black paint, and almost hidden by the outdoor display stands. It suited my purposes exactly. I got out my credit card, and got busy. Matt had taught me various break-in techniques, but this door didn’t look like it’d need anything but the most fundamental. I was right. It didn’t take more than a minute or two of coaxing for the lock to give and the door to creak open. I chanced a quick look around me to see if anyone had noticed, before going in.

Once inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking care not to trip over the newspapers piled up on the tiled floor. There was a bit of post, too. I gathered it up, placed it carefully under my arm, and looked around me. I was standing in a foyer, and there was a door in front of me, to the side of a staircase. It had to be the flat of the tenant I’d met before, which meant Charlotte’s was on the first floor. Good. Only two flats meant less chance of being caught.

I peered up into the stairwell. It was dark, with a ragged carpet running up the middle of the stairs. The whole place smelt of raw meat, from the butchers presumably, and dust. I listened, but the only sound I could hear was the traffic from outside, interspersed with the odd snatch of conversation, as people came and went from the shops.

I went upstairs, treading carefully, just in case. The landing when I reached it was small and dimly lit, from a window high up, and there was just the one door off it. I took my credit card in my fingers again and started to tease at the lock.

It didn’t budge. I sighed with impatience. Now, in the situation, all Matt’s other tricks deserted me. I couldn’t remember one. Well, I could…one. But I didn’t have a clothes hanger with me, and there was no damned letter box, anyway.

I fiddled around with the card for a few minutes more, before giving up and resorting to the tried-and-tested, fool-proof method I’d hoped to avoid. I hoped the tenant downstairs was out. I couldn’t be sure, though, so it meant my time inside the flat was going to be cut short. I couldn’t hang around.

The door was solid. The first time I drove my shoulder into it, I definitely came off worst. It hardly gave at all. It took a good dozen whacks before it finally surrendered, and even then it swung open reluctantly, snagging on another thin, bedraggled carpet.

I pushed my way into the room, keeping my back to the wall. I almost smiled to myself. It was like being in a film. I was the cop, searching for the murderer. Except, of course, Charlotte wasn’t a killer. Just a colossal pain in the ass.

Normally, I would have got Matt or Rick to do this kind of thing for me, but this was too serious…too personal…and anyway, I couldn’t trust anyone, least of all Rick, right now.

The room was empty. There was nothing in it, except a dead cat, splayed out on the floor, its guts hacked open, and spilling out onto the carpet. It was no surprise to find, as I pushed at it with my shoe, that it was black and white. Looked like I’d found the missing one, anyway, but I wasn’t going to be getting a reward. It was rancid. I felt like gagging. Who’d leave a room like that? Who’d do that to a cat? What the fuck did this address have to do with anything, anyway?

I went through into the kitchenette. It reeked just as bad as the living room, being separated by only a thin party wall, but at least I no longer had to look at the cat. I put the post on the worktop, and began to sort through it. There wasn’t much that looked interesting. Most of it was for the flat downstairs, and it was all in different names. There were only three envelopes for this flat, which seemed weird. Surely, a flat that had been empty for months should have a backlog of junk mail a metre deep.

I’d stood there for a few moments, pondering the significance of it, when I heard a noise from outside the flat. Footsteps, light and cautious. Someone was coming up the stairs. I quickly stuffed the three envelopes inside my jacket, bundled the rest in my hand and strode out onto the landing.

Whoever it was had turned the light on. I looked down to see the tenant from the downstairs flat staring up at me. She looked frankly disgusted. ‘You again,’ she said. It was less a statement and more an accusation.

She’d stopped halfway, and I was able to take her in more clearly than I had the day before. She was fairly pretty, with long bleached hair that was growing out. The roots were black, like the thick make up daubed around her eyes. She was also barely half-dressed, in a flimsy red house-coat that barely covered her thighs. It was all frills and didn’t seem to do up. Right now, it was gaping open, exposing more crimson and more frills, in the way of a long-line basque. It would probably have looked cheaply erotic, had it been on a better figure. As it was, she bulged out of it all over and the whole package just looked cheap.

In a heartbeat, the whole situation dropped into focus. There were no prizes for guessing what this girl did for a living, or why she’d seemed so pleased to see me the last time. Working girls weren’t normally picky about where their clients came from, or when they turned up. She’d probably been waiting on one when I’d arrived.

‘Is that my post?’ she demanded. Her whole attitude was hostile, but guarded. ‘Give it here.’

She came up the stairs and stood at the top, blocking my way out. I held out the post, feeling tired and impatient. She snatched it and immediately started rifling through it. ‘There’s nothing for that flat,’ she said. ‘Have you taken it?’

I shrugged. ‘There wasn’t any,’ I said, casually. ‘I think that’s pretty strange, to be honest.’

‘Well, no one lives there,’ she said.

She was trying to sound disinterested, but I could tell she was on edge. Her hands were shaking. Not much – the tremor was almost imperceptible – but it was enough for me. I’d got her rattled. She might, after all, prove helpful. If I could just keep the pressure on…

‘I’d have thought there’d be some,’ I said. I leaned back against the wall, and folded my arms, making sure to keep the envelopes inside my jacket secure. ‘Makes me think you might be collecting it for someone.’

I stared at her, watching her face for any further signs of discomfort. There…the eyes darting to the side, not meeting my gaze…the tremble of the lower lip.

‘If you’re after Charlotte,’ she said, looking up at me finally. ‘You’re too late. She’s gone.’

‘She was never here, Jane,’ I said. Looking through the post had given me her name at least. ‘As you know very well.’

She didn’t like me using her name at all. Her eyes widened and she looked almost fearful. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what she’s done, but I’m not getting involved. I collect her post for her, that’s all. She’s been good to me. I wouldn’t have this flat without her. Don’t ask me to grass.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ I said, putting out a hand towards the stairs. She looked down at herself, as if suddenly realising she was exposed, and pulled the house coat around her, defensively. I gestured again at the stairs, and she stood back, allowing me to pass.

I started down the stairs, the facts beginning to gel in my mind. Jane was a pro. Charlotte had got her this flat. Charlotte…was never a journalist. They might do most things, but even the most hardened hack didn’t screw around just for a story. When she’d said she was selling her story, she’d meant just that. Selling it, not writing it. She was a prostitute looking for a quick buck. And I was an idiot.

The girl must have gone into the flat, because she suddenly screamed, and shouted down the stairs at me. ‘Oh my god, that’s my cat, you sick fuck! And look at the front door!’ She came back out onto the landing. ‘It’s knackered. You’re paying for that. I’ve got your number plate.’

I stopped briefly and shook my head in disbelief. The bitch had seen me coming in. She’d probably been waiting for a client again. Of course she had. The outfit said it all. And now she had my registration number. She’d warn Charlotte and she’d be another step ahead. I had nothing to lose. I might as well put some pressure on.

I turned and looked back up the stairs at her. She sounded defiant, but her eyes told a different story. They were huge and staring. She looked scared to death. ‘You said you wouldn’t get involved,’ I said, making sure to use my most threatening tone. ‘You’d be wise to stick to that and, if you do see Charlotte, be sure to give her this.’

Following the Fliss episode, I’d had some new business cards made. I hoped Charlotte would see the humour and relent a little. Maybe even get in touch.

They were plain, black on white, and had nothing on them but my title and my mobile number. I took one out and scribbled two words on it, before letting it fall onto the bottom stair.

It landed face up, and I threw it a backwards smile as I left the flats.

Call me, it said.

The Filth Monger