I spent ages trying to get my winged eyeliner just right, my eyes watering from the contacts. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like armour. Wearing my war paint, I was going into battle. Getting the line straight was tricky because my hands were shaking. Even a shot of gin didn’t help to steady them. Dressed in dark skinny jeans, biker boots and a cream silk camisole with spaghetti straps, I looked tiny. Perhaps even fragile. I’d lost definition in my shoulders since I’d stopped boxing and my bones protruded. Too much skin? Maybe, considering how thin I was. However, the shade was perfect against my pallor and platinum blonde hair. I was channelling Stephen King’s Carrie. Dark roots were just beginning to peak through, it had been six weeks since I’d had them done and they enhanced my rock chick look.

I packed away Ben’s necklace back in the gift box and slid it into my drawer. I didn’t want to risk it getting damaged or having to explain its meaning. I repacked my bag twice, considering each item and double-checking everything. All my planning and training had been for tonight, but I still didn’t feel ready.

I had another gin, reciting the telephone number I needed repeatedly. I couldn’t forget it. It might just save my life later. Time was slipping away, and I had to leave soon if I didn’t want to be late to meet Ian. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate being kept waiting. I didn’t really care but I didn’t want to start the evening on the wrong foot. I wanted him onside for as long as possible.

The flat was empty when I left. I’d made sure everything was tidy and in its place. All my affairs in order. My footsteps weighed heavy on the walk into town. It was dark, cold, but dry at least. The streets were buzzing. Groups of people lined the pavements ready to hit the pubs. It was Saturday night after all, payday weekend for some. For the first time, I felt at ease walking alone. Too preoccupied with plans for later to worry about feeling vulnerable.

After tonight I would be able to close the door on this and start over. Get another job, try and find something I wanted to do. I wanted to fall in love, settle down. I was halfway there already. I hoped to be able to look back and be proud of what I’d achieved, not dwell on how I’d fucked everything up. After tonight I’d be something, a hero and a villain combined, but already I was out of my depth. Hadn’t it been play acting until now? When push came to shove, could I really do it?

Ian stood outside Mangos waiting for me. He looked sharp in jeans, shirt and a blazer, raising his eyebrows as I approached.