Joanna was sure she salivated over every word. “I can’t leave my house without them following me.”

“Oh, poor you. I wish I could help.” They were empty words, delivered as a platitude.

Joanna knew that, but decided to test her theory, anyway.

“You could help.” She stared at the remains of her egg, congealing on her plate. “Could I stay with you for a few days?”

There was a pause. “Stay? You mean overnight? With us?”

“If the media know I’m not here, they might lose interest and move on to something else.”

“Or they might follow you here. I’m sorry, Joanna, but Bryan has a lot of things going on at work and cannot afford to have a whiff of scandal at the moment. Plus Jilly is home from college, so we don’t have much room.”

Seven bedrooms, Joanna thought. Heather had seven bedrooms. How much room did they need?

“I understand.” She understood that it was nothing to do with room, and everything to do with the baggage Joanna brought with her. She could pull together enough people for a charity ball if she needed to, but she didn’t have anyone who loved her enough to care about her welfare.

She felt a heaviness in her chest. The outcome of the call wasn’t a surprise, so why did she feel so disappointed?

“Goodbye, Heather.” She ended the call and Nessa pulled a face.

“I’m guessing that was a no.”

“No one wants a guest who comes with their own press pack.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to stay with her, anyway. You need to get out of the city. Go somewhere remote.” Nessa finished her breakfast. “Maybe you should book a hotel.”

The idea held no appeal. She’d been alone for years, both within her marriage and outside it, but she’d never felt more alone than she did at that moment. And vulnerable. Unfamiliar surroundings where she couldn’t properly protect herself wouldn’t help that.

“Have you checked the news sites today? What are they saying?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that isn’t true.”

Nessa sighed. “Nothing you want to know about. Nothing new. Nothing you haven’t seen before, I’m sure.”

“Pass me my laptop.”

“I need it. I’m working.”

“Nessa—”

“If I say no will you fire me?” Nessa hesitated and then pushed it across the kitchen island to Joanna. “You honestly shouldn’t look.”

She looked, and saw that Nessa was right. Because they didn’t have anything new to say, they’d dredged up the old stories of Cliff’s transgressions over the years. To add visual impact they’d published an old photo of Joanna, taken in about the fifth year of their marriage.