Jodie sat and ran a hand wearily over her face. It was almost amusing… if she hadn’t been fired, she wouldn’t have been looking for a job, and wouldn’t have found out what a lying, cheating piece of scum Flynn was. Jodie’s mouth twisted at the irony of it all. She wasn’t a violent woman, but she wished he were there now so she could show him how strong she was, that someone like him wasn’t going to get her down.

The medication trouble in the nursing home was probably someone trying to cause trouble – for the home or for her in particular – she might never find out but as her union rep said, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was to get through the investigation without being struck off.

Jodie groaned and rested her head in her hands. It would have been nice if Flynn had turned out to be the man she’d thought he was. Strong as she knew she was, she could have done with a shoulder to cry on, an arm to lean on.

Just for a while.

27

Victor lay on the bed in his pokey bedsit, hands clasped behind his head, his eyes shut. He wasn’t asleep but he did his best thinking in the dark.

He’d followed lover boy from Jodie’s house, keeping a careful distance. But he needn’t have bothered. The man kept his head down the entire journey, only looking up when the train approached. Victor didn’t know the details but he guessed, for whatever reason, Jodie had dumped him. Satisfaction shot through Victor at the thought. He’d been right, the man hadn’t been at all suitable.

Curiosity lingered, driving Victor to follow him, changing trains, trailing after him until eventually the man left Woolwich Arsenal station and trudged down the street with Victor, a few steps behind, walking slower than he’d thought possible.

He dropped behind when the man turned into the quieter Kingsman Street, then raced to catch up as he headed towards the door of an apartment block. Instinct made Victor reach into his coat pocket for his set of keys and hurry after him, rattling his keys in front of his face, and shouting a cheery, ‘Thanks, you can leave it open for me’ as lover boy opened the door.

The man didn’t turn to look and Victor put his hand on the door before it clicked shut. Lover boy could have let an axe murderer into the apartment block. Victor would have tutted had he not been grinning at the success of his ruse. He listened to the heavy slap-slap of the man’s soles echoing on the concrete steps of the narrow stairwell and waited till he’d rounded the first turn before following, slowly and quietly.