And she did know. Mandy didn’t like to take women home to her place—her flat was private, and she didn’t want strangers in it. But equally, she’d had one too many morning-after conversations when she’d gone back to other women’s homes. She wanted her sex life uncomplicated, no strings. The only way she’d found that worked was random encounters such as the one she’d been in the middle of with Laura, quick and hard in some secluded part of a club. Unfortunately, most times that meant mixed clubs, as there just weren’t enough lesbian ones available, even in a city as big as London. Mixed meant risk. The risk of being found, of being verbally abused, of being thrown out, or—as she’d discovered tonight—worse.

“Look, are you okay to get home?” Laura dropped her arms to her sides and shuffled on the spot, clearly keen to get going. Mandy couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You take off.”

“Look after yourself,” said Laura.

“You too. See you around.”

Laura turned and marched off, tucking her head down into the collar of her jacket.

Mandy shivered and pulled her own jacket tighter around her body against the wind that knifed up the road. She didn’t blame Laura for disappearing, but it did rankle a bit. Left on her own in the middle of Brixton with a bleeding face wasn’t exactly her idea of a great night out. But then, what did she expect? She and Laura had only shared first names and about five minutes of interrupted intimacy. She wasn’t pretending it was something it wasn’t.

She pulled the tissue away from her lip and then patted the cut tenderly with a fingertip. The blood seemed to have stopped, thankfully. She dipped into her handbag again and found the little tube of lip salve she always carried around with her. Using her fingertip, she gently covered the cut with the soothing balm and then stuffed it, along with the tissues, back in her bag.

She stood up, took a deep breath, and started for home. So much for an easy, fun Saturday night out. She was fed up with this—too many nights ended in disappointment these days. She was thirty-two, way too old to be slapped down by some stupid bitch in a toilet.

She needed a change of scenery.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Manchester, present day

Kath held the steaming hot mug carefully in one hand as she flicked off the main kitchen light. By the soft light of the under-cupboard spotlights, she made her way out of the room and down the hall.