‘I made no promises,’ he said. True. He hadn’t. Bastard. Marcia would love it if I told her about him, and he’d be moved up her list of contenders straight away.

13

‘Coffee?’ asked Stuart as I took a seat in his office. It was a cosy, wood-panelled room above an estate agents’ on the High Street in Highgate and was a great place to retreat to on a cold, frosty day. With the bookshelves full of art, music and history books, old rugs and prints on the wall and a vintage guitar on a stand in the corner, it was more like a man’s den than a place of work. Stuart didn’t look like your average accountant either, with salt-and-pepper hair that always looked in need of a cut, an aquiline nose and heavy-lidded brown eyes. He was dressed in jeans and had his customary long red scarf wound around his neck, giving him an appearance that was more bohemian than executive. ‘I’ve just made some.’

I sniffed the air. ‘I know, I can smell it. I’d love a cup – and hello to you, Monty,’ I said as he got up from under the desk and padded over for a fuss. He always accompanied Stuart to work and his presence made my visits all the more enjoyable. ‘And thanks so much for looking in on the house while I was away and the provisions in my fridge when I got back. You really are a pal.’

‘No trouble, there’s nothing more boring than not being able to make a cup of tea when you get home from a long trip,’ said Stuart.

‘It was very thoughtful of you and thanks also for seeing me today. I know a lot of people don’t work at all between Christmas and New Year, so it’s much appreciated.’

‘I’m happy to, I was in the office anyway. Everywhere is quiet, so it’s a good time to get things in order before the coming onslaught on the second of January and …’ he grimaced, ‘well, I could see the urgency when I got your text outlining your current situation. I’ve had a look through and—’

‘I know, not good,’ I said.

‘No, not good. This is serious, Bea.’ He looked at me sternly. ‘You’re paying out extortionate amounts on two properties that you can’t afford, your shop and your house. Your outgoings far outweigh what is incoming. It’s not looking good at all.’

I felt like a naughty schoolgirl who had been called in to see the headmaster. I often felt that way with Stuart. ‘I know, that’s why I came to you.’

He shook his head. ‘Well, clearly something’s got to go, you can’t go on like this. Going bankrupt could be an option to look into.’

‘Not one I want to take.’

‘Second option—’

‘Sell my house.’