‘Oh,’ Jodie said, surprised. She was under the impression he lived in a spacious apartment but when she thought about it, she couldn’t remember if it had been something he’d said or not. They’d reached Wilfred Street and she took out her house keys as they approached the front door. ‘It doesn’t matter, there’s plenty of room here, thank goodness.’

She’d turned from Flynn to put the key in the lock so missed the look of relief that swept across his face.

12

The wine, food and company had done its best to ease Jodie’s distress but as soon as the lights went out and she was left once again to her thoughts, it came barrelling back. She turned her head to look at the sleeping man beside her, trying to focus on him, on his kindness, his understanding, his acceptance that sex wasn’t on the cards that night. He’d held her in his arms and she’d stayed there until she heard his breathing change to a slow, deeper rhythm, then she eased from his arms and lay back against her pillow.

The puzzle of the medication haunted her. She knew she hadn’t left it there. The housekeeping staff were diligent, though, so had it been there from the day before it would have been reported. It had to have been put there sometime late afternoon. By someone. Someone who wanted to make trouble for her. It was a galling thought that she had someone who disliked… even hated her… that much. It brought the sharp sting of tears to her eyes but she rubbed them away. She’d done enough crying that day.

One step at a time. Tomorrow, she’d ring her union, get their advice, see what the NMC were going to do. She needed to have her wits about her. Sleep was essential, but as soon as the thought swept through her head, anxiety tightened its evil claws rendering sleep impossible. After an hour, she slipped from the bed, pulled on her robe, and crept downstairs.

Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she’d switch on the TV and watch something mindless but her bedroom was directly above the sitting room, the sound would carry and one of them being awake in the wee hours was enough. Instead, she made herself a mug of camomile tea, took it through and curled up on the sofa. She hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights. The heavy curtains had been left open and the room was bathed in a hazy orange glow from the street lights outside.