With this in mind, she turned the central heating up, the overhead lights down, and lit every lamp in the flat, so that it would be warm and welcoming, as well as full of delicious smells, when Andy got in. Then she opened another bottle of wine, poured herself a glass and settled down with a glossy magazine. She flicked through an interminable piece about ‘autumn’s exciting new trends’, the main gist of which seemed to be that if you didn’t spend obscene sums of money on coats, boots and handbags, you were a deeply unfashionable loser.

Even though she was now commanding quite high rates for her canvases, phrases such as ‘I’d happily pay double for something decent, rather than a bleurgh, mid-priced nonentity like this’ (for a perfectly nice-looking bag costing £250) and, ‘I do hope this little beauty [£850 from McQueen] doesn’t fall into the perma-tanned, French-manicured hands of the Essex mob’ really stuck in her craw. They were in the middle of a fucking recession, for Christ’s sake. Where did these moronic fashion chicks get off?

Her phone rang and, as ever, her heart leapt when she saw Andy’s name and photo flashing up.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said warmly. ‘Are you on your way home?’

‘I’m really sorry, Belles.’ Andy sounded slightly nervous. ‘But I’m going to be a bit later than I thought.’

‘What? But Andy, you promised …’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry,’ he said again. ‘But I’ve just had a call from Alison, and she says she’s desperate to talk to me about the case she’s working on … It sounds like she’s dealing with similar people to the ones I’m investigating, and—’

‘You’re going to meet ALISON?’

‘I’ll only stay for one drink, I promise …’

‘So, let me get this straight –’ Bella tried to keep her voice level, but it was rising by the second – ‘I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all evening making our dinner, and now you tell me you’re going to meet your bitch of an ex, but I’m not meant to mind, because it’s only for one drink?’

‘Oh, don’t be like that, Belles, please. You love cooking, and you’re making boeuf bourguignon, right? Surely that improves the longer you cook it? I won’t be that late – there’ll still be time for us to eat together. Alison sounded really distraught – if you knew what these people—’

‘I know what these cunts do, you’ve told me enough times. What if I don’t want to wait for you to get back? What if I’m bloody starving now? What if I am SICK TO DEATH OF FUCKING PEOPLE TRAFFICKERS?’

Andy’s voice went cold. ‘Can you please stop being so childish? There are some things that are more important than your hurt feelings, you know. I’ll be home by 9.30 at the latest – is it really such a big deal?’

If you loved me as much as you say you do, you wouldn’t think that my hurt feelings were so trivial.