Nausea rumbled as it did every morning. Usually, by ten, it had settled down and, so far, she’d been lucky, it hadn’t prevented her from working. She sipped her coffee, her eyes fixed on the envelope. As with the last, her name was scrawled in spidery writing across the front. And inside… what would it be this time?

A spurt of anger made her reach for it, tear it open across the top and knock the contents onto the table. A folded sheet of paper and a small photograph. They didn’t look threatening.

Not threatening but Victor’s missive wasn’t subtle.

I love you, I’ve always loved you.

Jodie crushed the paper in her hand and flung it across the room before picking up the photograph. It was the one he’d shown her, the two of them. They looked happy, so at ease. How well he had groomed her, to have made her think it was all normal.

She held the photograph up to the light and peered closer at Victor. He’d been twenty-eight when they’d met. Over the years, history had shaded his face in unfriendly colours so she’d forgotten how handsome he’d been. She’d deliberately tried to forget about him, about the disgrace, the pain, the loss.

He was trying to rekindle something that had never existed. She had to find a way to stop him.

39

Jodie tore the photograph and note into tiny pieces and threw them into the rubbish bin. If only she could dispense with Victor so easily.

At noon, she left the house and headed into the city to meet Rivka for lunch. She’d not met her in a couple of weeks, making excuses when her friend rang, afraid she’d blurt out the news of the pregnancy in her excitement and happiness. She wanted to wait until those first three months of uncertainty were up.

Uncertainty. Her life seemed to be filled with it.

In the café, she ordered a coffee while she waited, raising a hand in greeting when her friend arrived on the dot of one. Jodie blinked in surprise to see her normally bright-eyed and cheerful friend looking pale and unusually solemn. ‘You look frazzled,’ she said as Rivka sat on the chair opposite. ‘Are you okay?’

Rather than answering, Rivka leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. ‘How is the NMC investigation going?’

Jodie tried to read her friend’s expression, but it was shut down, her skin unusually pale, lips a thin red slash. Maybe she’d had a row with Tasha? ‘Is everything okay?’

‘The investigation. Tell me.’