Sitting here now trying to clear my head for work, I think my imagination must have been working overtime.

He sat very close to me in the taxi on the way home and neither of us spoke.

Pansy greeted us ecstatically. He picked up her lead from the table by the door.

‘Goodnight,’ I said to him. ‘I will be working when you come back. Thank you very much and … and I hope I’ve been some sort of help to you.’

I leant forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘I hope that one day you will be happy again. It is possible.’ And I came in here and shut the door.

I hope never to see him again.

Another strange thought has come into my mind, that maybe one day I may use his story; steal it from him. Yes. Maybe he gave me more than I can at this moment handle, something to ferment and foment in the dark cavities of the brain.

ccccllllmmm.

There we go.

The screen is lighting up. Terse but friendly messages pass across it, leaving a lovely inviting empty space. I wonder again why I never recognised the exciting possibilities of the empty page before.

Closed mind.

The Gingerbread Woman

(continued)

When I woke up the next morning I felt like death. Whiskey, pills and sorrow sat on my chest and I could barely move. The pain down at the base of my spine was a dull nag. No matter what had happened in my life, I had to go to work so I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower.

I met Sophie in the corridor outside my room.

‘Your phone has been ringing for the last twenty minutes,’ she said.

I nodded wearily. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’re looking like hell. Are you ill? The grippe or something?’

‘No. You were right about the man.’ As I opened the door the phone started to ring again. ‘Wife. Three kids. Lying turd.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Clara. I just had this feeling. Take the day off. We’ll manage. Go home and beat your brains out. Is that the rat?’ She gestured towards the phone.

‘I suppose.’

She crossed the room and picked up the receiver. ‘Who is this? No, she’s not here. No, she won’t be in today. Or tomorrow. In fact, I think as far as you’re concerned she’ll never be in again. And goodbye to you too.’ She put the phone down. ‘Sounds nice. Very Upper East Side. Personally I like them a bit more squalid.’

I laughed a little.

‘Go home,’ she said.

‘No. I’d rather work.’

‘We’ll lunch,’ she promised and went back into her own room.

When we returned after lunch, he was outside my door leaning against the wall. He was, as usual, dressed immaculately, neither sight nor smell of Guinness. I unlocked my door. Sophie stood for a moment, her head slightly to one side. I gave her a little wave and she turned towards her own room.