She even felt better about what had happened with Ted. It was her rock bottom, her reckoning. She had accepted it; had forgiven herself for the mistake she made seven years ago. She knew she would have to tell Alice one day, but not yet. Not when things were going so well. Why would she undo that, and to what end? She snubbed the question out as quickly as it had appeared. Ted’s firm had relocated and now occupied a floor of a shiny City tower close to the patisserie. He and one of his business partners, David, were keen patrons and one of the firms who had approached her regarding an investment. Alice, who had got wind of this plan, or was maybe even behind it, was keen. Nina thought she could work with Ted and David and it made sense with them being so nearby and her knowing Ted. She could ask him stupid questions and not feel embarrassed, as she might with someone she didn’t know. She was considering it, fortunate to have options.

The women sat by candlelight in Nina’s apartment, the Eiffel Tower flickering in the distance, making plans for the wedding and agreeing Jules didn’t have to have a hen (Alice tried not to take offence at her friends’ careful sidestepping of her own traditional nuptials, with – gasp! – a proposal and hen and stag dos), and yes, La City Pâtisserie would make an excellent venue for a reception dinner, and for the first time in a long while, things felt exactly as they should.

*

The next morning they’d sat on Nina’s long balcony, eating croissants and reading magazines. Jules leaned her head on Alice’s shoulder contentedly. ‘Virginia Hoof at 3 p.m.,’ she pondered aloud, looking up from her phone. ‘In form, stays the distance, will be suited by the firm ground.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Alice giggled, a fizzing sound like soda hitting ice, and Nina felt so light and happy inside.

Jules smiled. ‘It’s my little thing. For my father. I put a bet on the horses once a week. Like we used to do together…’ Her voice drifted but she wasn’t adrift. She had come out the other side of her grief. She was grateful to her work – the long nights and fast pace having helped her weather the storm at its fullest. At her hardest moments – crying in the toilets, or unable to sleep after multiple Diet Cokes – she knew her father would have been proud. Of the way she kept going. Of the way she continued to excel. Play to win, he’d always said. And that’s what she was doing; what she’d always done.

She placed the bet and looked up to the sky.

10

Sunday a.m.

Jules

It was 7.30 a.m. Jules stared at a message from Paul in confusion. It said: ‘I’m outside.’

Her eyes narrowed as she rubbed them, trying to clear the fog from her head. She wasn’t used to drinking so much. He’s outside where?