I wouldn’t let myself look back. I got round the next corner; saw Jen’s mansion-block ahead but I didn’t want to go there yet. I wanted to be on my own; I wanted to crawl into a corner and die. The tears coursed down my cheeks. I bent double in the road and I sobbed and sobbed, feeling like someone had just sliced my arteries open. How could it hurt this much? I told myself over and over again it wasn’t just him, it was the whole situation, but it didn’t help.

A young woman on a bicycle stopped to see if I was all right but I held my hands over my face until she went away. I sat there on the pavement, leaning against the railings, and I cried until I could cry no more.

Inside my heart was breaking; and inside I was thinking that I’d known it would do all along; that I deserved no better. And I realised finally how dangerous it had been to let myself fall when I had not been ready; when there was no one there to catch me.

It rained so hard that all the flowers in the pots by the front door were bowed and broken when I stood again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE TELEGRAPH, JULY 2008

Bright young Tory hope Ash Kattan today joined David Cameron and Baroness Warsi at the Young Muslim Association for a talk on racial harmony. Both are Oxford alumni – although Kattan once publicly criticised the infamous Bullingdon Drinking Club that Mayor Boris Johnson, Cameron and close ally George Osborne were all members of – the pair seem to have ironed out differences now with the announcement that Kattan is standing for a seat in Berkshire. Son of international banker and art dealer Hadi Kattan, Ash is the face of ‘a new and excitingly diverse Britain’, according to the Tory whips.

‘There’s a girl called Star on your phone.’ Jen pulled a face at the name, extending my mobile towards me. ‘Tea?’

‘Oh God, yes, please.’ My eyes still felt swollen and sore as I pushed myself up off the sofa-bed and took the phone. ‘Hi, Star.’

‘Morning, Rose.’ Her voice was absurdly cheerful. ‘Good night at the club?’

‘Oh.’ I thought about it, my brain fuddled. Next door I could hear the kids discussing Scooby snacks. ‘Well, you know. Different circumstances, it would have been great I’m sure.’

‘We’ll have to have a night out one of these days. When your – when it’s all sorted.’

‘Yes.’ What did she want? I looked at London’s hard water scum floating on my tea. To chat about evenings out? Surely not. ‘Star, I—’

‘Rose,’ her voice dropped suddenly, ‘listen, the reason I’m calling you so early –’ it was 9 a.m., ‘is ‘cos Liam’s still asleep. He told me you want to find out about Angel.’

‘Angel?’ I repeated stupidly.

‘Katya. Angel. Whatever you wanna call her.’