‘You’ve never made me welcome,’ Joseph sobbed, ‘none of you – except Maggie, and you’re a fucking loser, Maggie, anyway.’ ‘Charming.’ I felt like he’d just slapped me in the face. ‘Why’s that then?’

‘Why do you pretend all the time? I know you must think about Sam. About how you messed up.’ He looked demented now.

My face went rigid; I took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about Sam. Not to you. Not to anyone here.’

‘You’re seriously lucky my uncle didn’t find out.’

‘Come on, man.’ Donna held out her hand now, the crystals on her nails glinting. She took a step towards Joseph. ‘Calm down, yeah? Let’s go inside. We can work it out, I’m sure.’

‘Fuck off,’ he whispered vehemently, his voice barely audible above the traffic. ‘Seriously – fuck off. I don’t need any of you. You’re all fucking evil. Television’s fucking evil. I should have listened to my parents in the first place.’

‘Why, what did your parents say?’ Donna asked, fascinated.

‘They said that the reason my uncle’s such a foul man is cos television’s corrupted his soul.’

‘I suppose Philip Lyons is a bit of a devil,’ Donna grinned. ‘But a corrupted soul’s a bit harsh. Have your parents got God or something?’

‘Don’t mock my parents,’ Joseph hissed. ‘Seriously, don’t.’ For a second I thought he might actually hit Donna, but he didn’t. He just balled his fists, and then turned on his heel.

‘Steady on, mate.’ A burly Australian tourist moved quickly out of Blake’s path as the boy started to run with an odd lumbering gait. ‘Where’s the fire?’

My eyes met Donna’s; she looked deeply embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, a tinge of defiance still in her tone. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything now if I’d thought – I mean, I didn’t realise he’d take it quite so badly.’

‘No,’ I stared after him, ‘I didn’t either.’

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Seb had been appalled when I’d told him what had happened at the flat. When I got back to my desk, wondering whether I should have gone after Joseph, there was a message on my answer-phone from him, leaving me an address in Notting Hill. ‘I’ll see you there at nine, babe,’ Seb said. ‘Don’t be late. I’m going to cheer you up.’

There was also a message from Charlie. ‘You missed a treat at Le Caprice. Steak tartare to die for. Now, you realise this show tomorrow’s a big one.’ His voice dripped with insincerity. He’d obviously regained his equilibrium along with lots of calories and units. ‘Don’t mess it up, Maggie, will you? Not this time. Just think of that lovely doco.’

I put the phone down hard.