She would learn that she could not threaten him and get away with it.

Grace loved Monday evenings. She usually took the night off and had a whole evening of peace and quiet to herself. She would read a book or watch a film – something light and easy. It was her little slice of heaven.

She was just settling down when there was a knock at the door. Swearing under her breath, she got up to answer it. Who the hell was that ruining her peace and quiet?

She answered the door to Nathan’s smiling face. ‘Jake in?’ he asked, brushing past her and into the house.

‘No. He plays football on Mondays. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. You two seem to be inseparable lately.’

‘He never mentioned it.’ He shrugged. ‘I might as well stay for a brew now that I’m here.’

She wanted to tell him to sod off, and that she was enjoying some peace and quiet. But she knew it would be useful to her to keep Nathan onside – for the time being at least. It would also be sensible to find out how he was keeping himself occupied now that he was out. So, she invited him into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

‘I see more of you now than when we were married, Nathan,’ she said, and he laughed in response.

‘So, Jake said you’ve bought the club?’ Grace asked while they drank their tea.

‘Yeah. It’s all mine now.’

‘Sharon sold it to you then?’

‘Yeah. I got it for a steal as well,’ he grinned. ‘Old cow thought it was losing money, but it’s a fucking gold mine.’

‘I don’t suppose you have anything to do with her believing that it’s on the skids though?’

‘Me? Never,’ he laughed. ‘It’s a good job I didn’t buy the place years ago like I was supposed to. Them robbing coppers would have taken it along with everything else.’

‘Oh yeah, proceeds of crime, that’s what they call it, isn’t it? The NCA looked into the pub after you were locked up. Thankfully, it’s always been in my name.’

‘Hmm.’ He nodded. ‘Robbing bastards never declared my money as proceeds of crime though, did they?’

Grace shook her head as she tried not to smile. ‘Thieving scumbags.’

One cup of tea turned into two and then before long they were sitting on the sofa in Grace’s living room, reminiscing about their misspent youth, until they were both laughing about the first time Grace tried to cook a jar of baby food in the microwave. She’d left the lid on and it exploded everywhere. Both of them had stood there, looking at each other with spaghetti bolognaise running down their faces.

‘I can’t believe you remember that, Nathan,’ she said through tears of laughter.