Confident that she had scrubbed every inch and happy that she had suffered enough, she pulled her rubber gloves off, pulled her phone out of her pocket again and pressed the A icon on the screen. It rang and rang. Answer the damn phone.

Chapter Forty-Two

In the pub, Adrian sat alone at the bar. A group of guys chanted at the TV as the football came to an end. The bar was rammed with men in blue shirts. Chelsea had won at home and so there was much celebrating from a load of men who had probably never set foot inside the London borough. He ordered another Jack and Coke before going back to observing the rabble.

He picked up his phone and looked at the screen: no messages from Imogen, just a couple of missed calls. He felt guilty for storming off, but not guilty enough to apologise. He didn’t want to speak to her right now. He needed this time alone, but he had a knot in his stomach from earlier, a bad feeling. He hated arguing with Imogen and hated the fact that he had made her feel like she had done something wrong. They were both at fault here.

He knew he was feeling sorry for himself without good reason. As usual, he was hardly blameless. Either way, he couldn’t face that conversation tonight; it could wait until the morning.

He welcomed the feeling of light-headedness the drink gave him, but it wasn’t enough – he wanted to be drunk, to stop thinking altogether.

He ordered two more drinks and looked at the clock. The bar was open until two in the morning. He had a good four hours drinking left; he could do some real damage in that time. He felt like people were looking at him, judging him for being alone. He wasn’t sure exactly who he was rebelling against. Adrian had always struggled with being told what to do, even when it was himself doing the telling.

Over time, the pub emptied of football fans and filled with other revellers, either on their way to or from elsewhere. The music from the jukebox got louder and the corner nearest the toilets turned into an impromptu dance floor. It was a fairly central pub, so the clientele largely consisted of people passing through.

By midnight, Adrian had had enough. Tempted as he was to be the last person in the place, he had work in the morning and should probably sleep it off.