Which was a start.

And a start was all you needed. She remembered something her dad used to say when she complained about not knowing how to do something: Get started, Fruitcake. If you’re not moving then you can’t get anywhere, but once you’re up and running you’ve got something to work with. Once you’re in motion, all you have to do is steer.

He was right. Suddenly things felt different. The man would come in and Max wouldn’t be there. She would know where he was; the man wouldn’t. For a change, she would be in control.

And the germ of what she might do with that control began to emerge.

Four Years Earlier: July 2014

James

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Hey.

The instant message popped up on his screen. It was from Penny. She had started the graduate programme at Spinks, an engineering firm in Manchester, at the same time as him. He liked her; she was funny and smart and tough, which he imagined was something to do with her upbringing as a police officer’s daughter in a village in Yorkshire. She had a long-term boyfriend, but from the start they had connected. Sometimes there was a spark when you met someone. It was hard to know why it happened with that particular person – why not one of the other graduates, Janet or Angie or Vanessa, who, at first glance, were equally as attractive as Penny. Why not Mary, who was much more attractive?

James didn’t know, and he doubted he would ever find out, but he was glad it was Penny. He was glad because she was already taken and he didn’t want a girlfriend. He didn’t want any connection to anybody.

He had lost enough in his life, and he didn’t intend to lose any more.

He typed a reply.

Whats up?

Lunch?

Sure. Canteen?

I was thinking of getting out of the office. Maybe the burrito truck in the park?

He looked out of the window. The leafy crowns of the trees swayed gently in the summer breeze. It would be good to get some fresh air.

It would help with his hangover. He had woken up with a stinging headache. He was used to hangovers, but this was a big one. Most nights he and Carl, the guy he shared his flat with, drank a few beers and a bottle or two of wine while they watched YouTube videos of football goals and rugby hits and famous gigs. Last night Carl had taken a bottle of vodka from the freezer and handed him a glass of that. Then there’d been some weed and he’d woken up feeling like shit. Some fresh air and a walk away from his desk sounded good.

You’re on. Five minutes?

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