The smell of food hung in the air, making me salivate. Ben had cooked. I peeked in the microwave and saw he had left me a bowl inside with a note – ‘Call me’. He was the best. Pesto pasta, a little congealed, but I was so hungry I’d eat anything. I wolfed it down and the hunger pains subsided. Normally I was the tidy one out of the two of us, but I left my plate in the sink. Ben wouldn’t mind, not today. I scribbled ‘THANKS’ in large capital letters on the note before making tea and returning to the sanctuary of my room. Safe and warm in there, cocooned in my duvet, I smoked the rest of the joint, knowing it would help me sleep some more.

What would I do tomorrow? There was no way I was going into the office. I worked as an assistant in a small marketing department of a distribution company called Drive. It was my job to organise photo shoots and write press releases. I enjoyed it, especially the creativity it allowed, but the thought of going into work filled me with dread. I could ask Ben to ring in for me in the morning, but it would mean I’d have to tell him what had happened, and I wasn’t sure I could. I knew I had to tell the police. If he attacked someone else, I’d never forgive myself.

4

SUNDAY 28 JANUARY 2018

When they come to take me to interview I’ve lost all sense of time. How long has it been since I was cautioned? A portly sergeant had stood at the front desk and held my forearm as he spoke. He had a lisp and spittle flew from his mouth as he struggled to enunciate each word. I averted my eyes to the clock behind the desk which read 1.05 a.m.

‘Rose Harding, I am arresting you on suspicion of grievous bodily harm. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’ He looked me over, his mouth pulled into a grimace. My slight frame, my eye, the bruises. I know I look weak. It’s going to be my advantage.