I started to pull him after me, leading him into the bedroom, and he let me. Few circumstances would make Zac resist sex. His fury in the aftermath of my London disappearance was the one time he ever had. He grabbed the laptop on the way out.

‘When you said we could conduct some research. I didn’t realise you were talking about the kind you do on that.’

He laughed and put the laptop down by his side of the bed. ‘Definitely not.’

Afterwards, all I could think was, please let him go and wash as usual. And he did go. I felt tender towards him for that. Some things about Zac were so predictable.

According to the clock on the night table, thirty-five minutes had passed since I’d installed the portable drive. As soon as Zac was in the bathroom, splashing at the sink with the door half-open, I rolled to his side of the bed, letting my arm hang off so I could unzip the case one-handed, snatch the portable drive out of the laptop, and stuff it under the mattress. When he returned a few seconds later, I whispered, ‘It’s true, what they say about pregnant women.’

‘I could tell.’ He pulled my head into the hollow beneath his shoulder. Already, I was sliding into sleep, as if the adrenaline had drained away all at once, leaving me with nothing to keep going. ‘That’s what I love about you, Holly. You can never hide anything. Your body, your words, your face – they always give you away.’

Now
An Ambush

Two years later

Cheltenham, Monday, 8 April 2019

Within minutes of George’s blow to the head on Saturday night, I’d made the decision to visit Maxine again. As I walk up the path to her front door, I think some more about George. I think about why I met him on Saturday night, despite the horror of the previous week, and how lonely I’ve been, and what it was like to kiss him once I got past the flashbacks from two years ago, and how soft his kisses were compared to every kiss I ever had with Zac.

Then I think about the fact that George is no different than the rest of them, targeting me and lying about it, and I can feel my mouth set into a grimace. Not that it matters – given the fact I’ve blown his cover, he will almost certainly vanish.

I don’t park out of sight in my secret-stash car. I leave the mini I drive everyday smack in front of Maxine’s Georgian terraced house. My hair is down. I haven’t bothered with the prescription-less spectacles. Nothing says I am as serious and pissed off as Cat Woman like black jeans and a black shirt and black ankle boots, and that is exactly what I am wearing. It is 8 a.m. when I knock on the door.