The printer clicked and hummed as it printed a map of the park. Paths, tracks, a lake, a car park, a road running through the middle of it all. I drank the last of the red wine and just sat there in the chair for a few minutes, wondering whether meeting Ben at the park might turn out to be a mistake. Or my best chance to close things out, draw a line under what had happened, and start putting my family back together. There was only one way to find out. In any case, there were some things I wanted to say to him: to look him in the eye and tell him that Mel was mine and I was hers, and nothing would ever change that. To tell him she was human, she’d made a mistake, and now we would put it behind us and start again. Part of me – maybe a big part – also thought briefly about hurting him, punishing him for what he’d tried to do to my family. He had forfeited his right to a fair fight.

I didn’t notice the webcam until I was about to shut the computer down. The red light glowed next to its tiny digital eye, looking back at me from its perch on top of the monitor. The camera’s red light only lit up when it was in use. When there was someone at the other end, the webcam’s view displayed on their computer screen.

Someone was watching me.

Monday

MONDAY

Chapter 27

27

Mel left for work at 7.10 a.m., as usual. We had not spoken last night or this morning. As soon as she shut the front door behind her I rang school, leaving a message for the head of year to tell him I was sick in bed with food poisoning and would not be able to make it in today.

Waiting in line with William in the school playground, I turned and caught one of the mums staring at me with a mixture of pity and curiosity. Her face rang a bell somehow but she quickly looked away, saying something to the woman next to her. Then I realised why: she had been two tables away from us in the Stratford Arms yesterday and had witnessed the confrontation with Beth.

Get used to this. People will find out, that’s just the way life works. So be it. I could handle that.

The rendezvous wasn’t due to happen until ten and there were still only three other cars in the small parking area at Fryent Country Park by the time I pulled in, just after nine. One of them was a white Aston Martin DB9, registration W1NB1G.

Damn. He beat me to it.

I parked at the end of the row and sat for a moment, peering at his car, looking for movement behind the tinted glass. My phone chimed with a text message.