‘You and her – you deserve each other!’ he said. The effect was like a slap.

‘What did you say?’

His face was all narrowed eyes and curled lip, but he kept his voice low. ‘Your missus, or girlfriend or whatever. I saw you at that festival together. She mouthed off at me over nothing.’

I remembered the strange mood Anya had been in when I came back with the drinks. I had forgotten all about the altercation she’d had. For a moment I stared at him, fighting with my own curiosity. But I had to know.

‘What exactly happened?’ I asked, hating that he knew and I didn’t. Hating having to ask him.

‘I accidentally knocked her with my arm as I walked by,’ he said. ‘I apologized, but do you know what she said?’

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘No,’ I said.

He laughed unkindly. ‘Well, I’m not going to repeat the word she used, not with kiddies around. But I will say something …’ He leaned in close, a nasty little smile playing around his lips. ‘No wonder you’re like you are, living with that psycho bitch.’

Now, I’d spent my childhood and teenage years avoiding violence. I’d seen enough, growing up. And yes, I didn’t want to know what I was capable of, if pushed far enough. An act of anger on my part had resulted in the worst thing that had ever happened to me, after all. What if Mark Little’s dark legacy really was just biding its time?

But that day I felt something ugly and delicious all at once flex inside and, before my brain could stop my hands, I had a handful of his T-shirt in my fist and was forcing my face into his. It shames me how gratifying it was to see a brief flash of fear in that ex-soldier’s eyes. Packed with muscle he might be, but he was shorter than me.

‘Don’t you ever speak about my wife again,’ I hissed, a fleck of spit hitting his face before he wrenched himself back from my grip.

‘You total wanker!’

Shit. What the hell was I doing?

‘Mr Little!’ The sharp voice of Jackie rang out across the playground.

I cycled home, feeling numb.

Suspended. And I was to see the doctor about having time off for my ‘stress issues’.

She’d presented me with the full list of my misdemeanours, from ‘harassing’ Bennett when he was on a night out, to turning up for work smelling of alcohol and failing to ‘carry out the admin that is a part of your job’. So she hadn’t bought Zoe’s story after all. I should have fought back. Told her that wasn’t how it happened. Or, the Bennett parts, anyway. But I had no defence for grabbing his T-shirt like that. And the fight had been knocked out of me by recent events.