Jez said, ‘I’ve got to tell you—’

‘Mate, please,’ Abs pleaded. ‘Not tonight. Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow. I promise, bruv, but just not tonight, yeah?’

Jez looked at him for a long moment. ‘Sure, Abs,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’

Whatever it was Jez wanted to say, it could wait. Tonight, Abs was on a mission. He was going to win back Kelsey, and the only way to do that was to get back on the show.

‘Just stay close to me,’ he told his wingman as he strutted into the room.

9

Sasha placed a pint of real ale, some microbrewed thing with a strange name, in front of Vaughn. They were sitting on stools around an upturned beer barrel made into a table, in a new bar that had recently opened in Leigh. It was dark and cool inside; the sun had slipped over the canopy but still shone fiercely on the shopfronts on the other side of the street.

Vaughn took a sip of his beer, and she saw by the way his chin wobbled just how much weight he had put on. He’d always been a big man, rugby-player solid, but now his shirt and jacket strained at the seams. He shifted his bulk on the stool, looking vaguely discomforted, and then his hand slipped below the table to discreetly loosen his belt and give his stomach some breathing space.

They sat tensely for a few moments while he summoned the courage to talk to Sasha, who placed her phone at the periphery of her vision so she could keep an eye on the time. They were late getting out of the office, so Connie would be arriving in less than fifteen minutes. Sasha wanted to make sure she’d sent Vaughn packing before then.

‘We’ll have one quick drink,’ she’d told him as they left the station and again as they arrived. ‘Just a quick one.’

‘I’m so sorry again,’ Sasha said now, to break the awkward silence. ‘I always thought you and Miranda were such a happy couple. Can I ask what happened?’

Vaughn took another sip. ‘It’s complicated.’

She was eager for him to add more detail, but he didn’t elaborate. He’d reveal all in his own good time and right now he needed her support.

‘How long have you been married, it must be over—’

‘Twenty-three years,’ he told her. ‘For better or for worse. I’ve moved out. I’ll get somewhere to rent eventually, but right now I’m staying at a hotel down the road. Miranda and the boys are still at home.’ He winced at the word. ‘It’s only right, but it’s hard.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Sasha, and because she couldn’t help but fish, said, ‘I’m really at a loss to understand why you’ve split up.’

But all he said was, ‘It’s coming up to three weeks now.’

‘Your emotions are still very raw, Vaughn, you’re going to be hurting. You’re grieving for your marriage, for the most important relationship of your life.’ Sasha sipped her wine while he tapped his fingers on the tabletop in an agitated rhythm. ‘Do you think there’s any chance…’