Chapters (50)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Ninteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Letter From the Author
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
She laughed. ‘Oh God, look at us. Lovesick before we’ve even parted.’ She gave me the naughty look I liked so much. ‘But our reunion will be fun.’
I went downstairs with her and waved her off. I watched her walk along the road, her black coat flapping about her, red hair whipped by the breeze. She turned and blew me a kiss. She was lovely. How could I ever have doubted her?
My mobile rang as I was going up the stairs.
‘All right, mate?’
‘Victor!’ I was lost for words temporarily. ‘How are you?’
He made a familiar groaning noise. ‘A lot fucking better than I have been. I’m in Brixton at the moment. That’s near you, isn’t it? Fancy meeting for a coffee? Oh, and by the way, I’m not a fucking paedophile.’
We met at a coffee shop in the market and as I approached the table Victor stood and gave me a bear hug. His eyes were moist and he smelled of cigarette smoke.
‘You OK?’ I asked. I had never known him to be tactile before and was sure he didn’t smoke.
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Do I smell of fags?’
I nodded.
‘I need to quit again. You know, I hadn’t even thought about smoking for ten years. Then as soon as all this shit kicked off, the only way I could get through it was by chain smoking.’ He drummed his fingers on the big wooden table. He was all nervous energy, twitches and tics. ‘I got a call from the police this morning. They’re dropping all charges.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant.’
‘Isn’t it? Though they shouldn’t have charged me in the first place. I mean, me, a paedo! I’m the kind of bloke who thinks people like that should be strung up by their bollocks in public. The thought of it . . . Jesus.’
‘So – what happened?’
He blew on his coffee. ‘The police don’t know who’s behind it, but someone set that site up to stitch me up. This whole thing about me going to meet a young girl . . . I’ll tell you what happened.’
I waited while he pulled the words together in his head.
‘So, a few days before this all kicked off, I had this weird friend request on Facebook. Someone called Sarah Smith. Middle-aged, quite attractive, same age as me. I thought it must be some old classmate I don’t remember and accepted it. Didn’t think nothing of it.