And maybe the thought was there, that Karen was sad and desperate, and she’d had some shockers in the past, as they always liked to remind her in their bantz. Maybe that thought was there as he put his hand out to steady her, on the back of her neck, like a frightened horse. He didn’t remember what happened after that, not until he was lying on the sofa and everyone was shouting and Karen was screaming in the kitchen. But he had a feeling that the memories were there inside somewhere, like the bugs that scurry and run when you disturb a woodpile. And he didn’t want to see those bugs.

In the car the next day, going home. Jodi driving, by tacit agreement, as he was still surely over the limit. She was mad at him, he thought, for getting drunk again, but that happened so often it was hardly worth mentioning. No discussion about what had happened all the way home to Pimlico, a silent drive without even the radio on. Afraid to hear news bulletins. Man arrested on suspicion of rape after Bishopsdean party. Karen was sure it was Mike, positive. She’d been so drunk.

Mike was his friend. But Mike had shagged Karen, over and over, and got away with it, hurt her, hurt Ali, and all Callum had done was a silly misunderstanding. That was all. Reached out to hold Karen, and then she’d seemed to want him, but then she’d changed her mind and he’d just tried to make her be quiet and listen, understand what they both had to lose if she kept screaming. But she’d been so pissed she couldn’t tell one man from the other. And wasn’t that her fault too?

It was easy in the end. He kept waiting for Jodi to bring it up, tell him she knew something, but she never did, and neither did he, and they slid back into their lives, work and the baby and the house, so easily it was like dropping into a moving stream of cold clear water.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six