While part of me wanted to see Reggie and hear all her news, I was slightly uneasy about her visit. It felt as though we had grown apart as my relationship with Jack blossomed and I almost felt disloyal to him, since there was obviously some unspoken animosity between them. And she represented my past, the old Stina; something which I was keen to shake off. I did miss our chats though, and wanted to tell her all about Avoncote and the weird goings-on in our house. We always used to shared everything and I missed talking to her and her infectious energy.

When not hopping on a flight to some far-flung location, she was languishing in a smart penthouse apartment in the centre of Birmingham. She’d sent me photos – it was huge, very modern with lots of glass and stainless steel, and views over the city skyline. It was all being funded by Akhmad, who, it turned out, was married. He’d always seemed rather an elusive figure, so it wasn’t entirely a surprise; I’d only met him on the one occasion, when they hadn’t been seeing one another long. He had called to the flat to collect her for a date, and on first impressions, I didn’t think much of him, in all honesty. He was in his mid-thirties, expensively dressed, tall and very good-looking, with intense dark eyes and slicked-back hair. He had seemed aloof and impatient, pacing up and down the living room as he waited. When she emerged from the bedroom, he had disapproved of the outfit she had chosen to wear, so reluctantly she had changed into something more to his taste – which, personally, I found a little tacky, considering Reggie’s impeccable dress sense. It surprised me that she had obliged him – she was usually so single-minded.

I had tried to be friendly and make conversation, but he was abrupt and clearly not interested in talking to me. Once or twice subsequently, Reggie had suggested going out as a foursome with Jack and myself, but I made excuses. I could just imagine the uncomfortable atmosphere, and knew Akhmad and Jack would never be on the same wavelength, either. Thankfully she stopped asking. But he kept her in the lifestyle to which she had always aspired, and the arrangement seemed to suit her. When she’d first told me about his wife, I didn’t pretend to approve. I knew she wouldn’t be remotely concerned about my, or anyone else’s opinion, anyway. But she was my friend and in spite of everything, I still thought the world of her. Whatever happened, that wouldn’t change.

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