We had a minor tiff this morning, His Lordship and me. About nothing in particular. I didn’t start it. Least I don’t think I did. Adam’s been really picky lately. Critical in fact. Bloody critical. About me wearing skirts that are too short, tops that are too low. Tarty. That what he’s implying. I’m twenty-five years old for heaven’s sake. I know at least five women of a pensionable age that dress younger than me. Even the ones whose boobs haven’t been cosmetically bolstered don’t give a shit. Mum tells me all this bickering is pre-wedding nerves, but I don’t buy it. These bloody shoes.

I head towards the concrete maze that houses the NFI and the Queen Elizabeth Rooms. It’d be great to wile away a couple of hours immersed in a flick, like we used to when Amber and I would bunk off school on Friday afternoons to avoid double domestic science. Little wonder my soufflés never rise. “Serves you right, girl!” Miss Martin would boom. This was our secret place—Amber’s and mine. And the last place anyone would think of looking for us. It’s not nearly as seedy as I remember.

Back then the place felt edgy. Headily seductive. Standing in the middle of the sunken skateboard pit, I’m drawn to the graffiti that covers every spare inch of concrete. Not for the first time I long to create something of my own. To paint a picture. To leave my mark for the tourists to see as they trawl by. Pity I’m so crap at art. I move in for a closer look.

Smack! A hand clasps my throat forcing me against a pillar. Toxic breath stings my face. My world goes black for a second like I’m about to lose consciousness.

‘Don’t think about screaming, bitch!’ He rips off my Pradas and grinds them into the floor. I pummel my fists helplessly against his chest, fighting for breath. He shoves the meat of his hand under my chin, jamming my head back.

‘Money,’ he demands.

I fumble with the zip on my bag. He plucks out my wallet and my mobile phone casually, like he’s done it a thousand times.

He leers at my face. ‘Fuckin’ rape alarm. Don’t get your hopes up, darlin’. Give us the watch.’

‘No please…it’s not worth anything.’

‘Shut the fuck up. Hand it over.’

I hold out my wrist.

‘Fucking get it off.’

Panicky fingers flap at the strap. It slides off my arm and smashes on impact with the concrete.

‘Fucking useless bitch. You did that on purpose.’ He stuffs the watch in his pocket. ‘Gimme the ring.’ He twists it against my knuckle.

‘It won’t come off.’

He yanks my hand out, twisting my wrist and pulls a knife from his belt. Serrated edge. Ugly bastard.

‘OK, OK.’ My heart buffers my ribs. Boom, boom, boom. ‘Give me a sec.’ I twiddle the ring helplessly on my swollen finger.

‘Stupid bitch.’ He lowers the blade. I screw my eyes tight shut. My throat is like sandpaper. I can’t move. ‘Say your prayers.’

I open my mouth to scream. No sound.

‘Oi you!’

My eyes dart sideways. A flame-haired girl in tracksuit and trainers appears out of nowhere. The monster lunges at me, baring his teeth like a rabid wolf, sinking them into my skin. He flashes the phone at my face.

‘Smile darlin’.’

At last the scream comes. A kind of scream, anyway. Thin and raspy that disintegrates in the air. He sprints away. My hand goes to my neck and I’m surprised when there’s no blood.

†

‘Surprise!’ Lexi says, clutching a plastic carrier bag to her chest and beaming at me with those amazing teeth. My heart plummets.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I say in a tone I usually reserve for double-glazing salespeople and Jehovah’s Witnesses.

‘That’s some welcome,’ she says. ‘You did say, Maddie, if ever I was passing…’

‘I know, but…’ My eyes are drawn to the tired blue tracksuit with dried blood on the cuff. ‘I didn’t expect…’

Lexi plants a territorial foot on the mat. ‘And seeing as you’re only going to be here another two weeks, I thought I’d better get in quick. See how the other half lives.’ She stands on tiptoe and peers over my shoulder. Laughter filters through from the garden.

I say in a hushed voice, ‘It’s just that…this is all a bit difficult.’ We gaze at one another in an awkward silence both of us are reluctant to fill.

‘I’ve called at a bad time,’ she says eventually. ‘You have company. I didn’t realise. It’s OK, Maddie, really.’

She stuffs her hands in her jeans pockets and turns to go. Today she looks like a child—all hunched up and small. Not a bit like the bullish terrier she was yesterday. Looking at her now it amazes me all the more what she did for me. I’m wracked with guilt. I can’t do this. It’s not fair on her. I suck in a deep breath and call after her.

‘Don’t be daft, Lexi—of course you’re welcome.’ She spins round on one foot and grins at me. I hold out my arm and stop her at the step. ‘Just wait here for one sec, there’s something I have to do. I’ll be right back.’

†

‘I’ve got a teeny-weeny confession to make,’ Lexi says, sliding onto the sofa beside me and shoving a photograph under my nose. It’s a picture of Adam and Rowena at some do. They’re standing in front of a Formula One racing car. Posing. He’s wearing a navy pinstripe suit I’ve never seen before and she’s wearing a cream and chocolate chiffon dress and matching hat. Rowena’s arm is hooked resolutely through Adam’s. They look like a proper couple.

‘Where did you get it?’ I’m surprised how casual my voice sounds.

‘I found it. Horrible isn’t it? Madam’s get up. Looks like a coffee éclair that’s been sat on—all that squidgy cream oozing everywhere.’

‘What do you mean you found it, Lexi? Where did you find it?’

‘There’s a date on it,’ she says, ignoring my question. ‘The Friday before last. Of course, I’m sure you knew all about it, Maddie, and it’s all perfectly innocent and—’

I stand up and go across to the fireplace. ‘If you thought for a minute I knew all about it, Lexi, you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of showing me. So I’ll ask you again, where did you get it?’

Her head droops. ‘Rowena’s bag.’

‘You were rifling though Rowena’s bag. Bloody hell, Lexi. What were you doing? Checking out the label?’

‘I was poking around for a tissue and I came across it.’

‘You don’t just go helping yourself to other people’s property. At least, most normal people don’t anyway. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?’

Lexi drops the photo onto the coffee table and turns her back on me. ‘Just forget about it, Maddie. I thought you’d want to know, that’s all. I’d want to know.’

‘Want to know. What exactly would you want to know?’

She spins round and peers right into my face, her eyes scanning mine like she’s trying to see into my soul. ‘You’re an intelligent woman I’m sure you can work it out for yourself. If Adam told you he was somewhere else on that day, then I’m sure he had good reason. Maybe it had something to do with your wedding. A surprise or something. Like I said, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry yourself about. Best forgotten.’ She brushes her hands together like she’s decided that’s the end of it. ‘Now you’ll have to excuse me, I promised Brenda I’d spray the roses. The King’s Ransom is coming on a treat. It’s going to win first prize, I just know it.’ With that she throws open the patio doors and skips into the garden.

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. I can’t breathe. I go upstairs to the bathroom, step into the shower cubicle fully-clothed and turn the water on.

†

I replace the phone gingerly and slink through to the kitchen. Lexi is perched on a stool reading an article about inner-city homelessness. I glance at it over her shoulder.

‘I never pass a beggar by in the street without stopping to give them something. OK I’m aware my fiver will more likely be spent on alcohol than food, but so what?’ I gush. ‘And when it’s chilly, I’ll even run to coffee and a bagel. Maybe even soup.’

‘As long as it’s enough,’ she says, without looking up.

‘Enough?’

‘To ease Maddie’s conscience.’

‘And I always buy The Big Issue from the bloke at Covent Garden.’

‘Don’t tell me you read it from cover to cover. Now you’re seriously trying to impress me. They get some decent writers, don’t they?’

‘What I mean is, I give the guy the money. Usually I don’t take the magazine,’ I say, feeling even more chuffed with myself.

‘Well that’s plain wrong,’ she says flatly. ‘I’m sorry, Maddie, but it is.’

‘But then he can sell it again.’

‘That’s not the point. The people that sell The Big Issue want you to take it. Even if you just walk around the city carrying it under your arm, people will see and maybe it will prick their conscience. If they sell out they can always get some more. If you don’t take it off them in the first place it’s an insult.’

‘Really?’

‘Think about it.’

‘I thought I was helping. In future I’ll take it.’

Lexi nods.

‘And I’ll read it. Promise.’

‘Atta girl.’ She puts down the magazine. ‘When Phil first left home he struggled to find work. Even the fast food companies wouldn’t look twice at him. And let’s face it, they’re desperate. Then he got a break. He managed to get on the programme—became a vendor. But as usual he blew it. He got fired after the third week.’

‘How on earth do you get fired from selling The Big Issue?’

‘Phil didn’t play by the rules. For a start he was hopeless at the patter—particularly when he was withdrawing. His head was all over the place.’

‘Your brother was on drugs, Lexi?’

‘Only when he could get hold of them. Ice was his thing.’

‘Ice?’

‘Crystal meth. Does exactly what it says on the tin. Grabbed hold of him by the balls and dragged him under. Left him drowning in his own paranoia.’

‘My God, Lexi.’