But one thing was certain – when all this was done, I never wanted to see him again. He and I were well and truly over. It had taken me all these years to finally accept what everyone else but me could see. He was rotten. Yeah, that was the word for it – rotten. And when I thought of how he’d used me to ensure my continued support as his lawyer … God, but I was stupid. Tobey was the only person who could reduce me to a giggling schoolgirl. Even when we’d been in bed together, with my piss-poor attempt at banter, I’d acted more like a teen than a grown-ass woman. It was to mask the nervousness I felt in his company. He’d done so much with his life, he’d reached the top, and he still wanted me. Oh God! I couldn’t stop wincing at the memory of how deluded I’d been. Wanted me? Yeah, right.

Tobey Durbridge was a member of Nought Forever.

He said that was all in the past, and those days were behind him, but why then keep the NF tattoo on his chest? Because, even if those days were supposedly long gone, like his shadow, they were still a part of him, no doubt only emerging when in the company of others who thought as he did, but who also managed to keep it well hidden from casual view.

Across the street, children – with what seemed like every heritage represented – yelled and laughed as they ran round the wire-fenced school playground. Their movements were a riot of hats and coats and colour. Impervious to the chill in the air, they delighted in one another’s company. No background, history or connections required. Joy shared is joy doubled, as Nana Meggie always says. Sitting on this bench, with my early-morning coffee warming my hands as I watched the children play, usually made my soul smile – but not today. Envious, I viewed them. All was right in their world. Nothing was right in mine.

Yesterday I’d failed to get the murder charge against Tobey Durbridge dropped.

And, in not backing out of his case, I was so scared I’d signed my brother Troy’s death warrant as well as that of Tobey’s daughter.

What was happening to them at this precise moment?

Were they already dead?

I closed my eyes, feeling physically sick. My imagination was flogging me. It’d been stripping the skin from my back from the moment I made the decision not to bail on Tobey – though every atom of sense in my head screamed at me to do just that.

Tobey Durbridge. Lots of labels for him too …

Ex-lover.

Player.

Manipulator.

Politician.

Blackmailer.

Iceberg.

Murderer?