Through the two frosted panes of seventies-style etched glass, I see the bulk of Vince’s frame approaching from down the corridor. He’s in no hurry.
He opens the door and regards me coolly. He’s broader – fatter – than he used to be, with a bit of a potbelly around his middle. His dark hair is even blacker than it used to be, the tell-tale sign of a war against grey.
‘Hello.’ I force a smile onto my face, which isn’t returned.
‘Bridget,’ he says in a low, unpleasant voice, stepping back to let me pass. I cast one last look at Charlie over my shoulder. He’s staring through his side window, reminding me of a lion about to pounce.
‘Who’s that?’ Vince notices who has my attention and pauses in his move to shut the door.
‘A friend,’ I reply.
‘One of your many men?’ he asks nastily, not expecting a reply.
The door closes with a light click, rather than a heavy clunk, but it feels just as threatening.
My head is spinning slightly as he motions for me to go into the living room. At least I can see Charlie from here, I note, albeit cloudily through the muslin curtains. I drag my eyes away from the window and they land on toy boxes. I glance up at Vince with relief.
‘You have children?’
‘Two,’ he replies, curtly.
‘So you’re married?’
‘Four years.’
‘Congratulations.’ My smile is genuine, but he seems intent on making this painful for me. ‘Where’s your wife?’ I ask.
‘She’s taken the kids to her mother’s,’ he replies. ‘Do you want a drink or will we be making this quick?’ His tone is frosty and abrupt.
‘I don’t need a drink.’ My earlier trepidation returns in force as I perch on the edge of his battered, stained sofa. I try to steel myself and remember my lines, but it’s hard to concentrate. ‘Vince,’ I say calmly, ‘do you know why I’ve come?’
‘I’ve got a pretty good idea,’ he sneers. ‘The missus saw you on the telly a couple of weeks ago, recorded it for me.’ That probably means he’s ranted to her about me in the past. ‘I can’t believe you’ve actually got the nerve to come here.’
‘I need to ask you for the piece of my heart back.’
The words have never sounded more foolish. I just want to be done with it so I can get back to Charlie and April.
He hoots in my face. ‘Have you got any idea how ridiculous you sound?’ His bitterness runs deep.
‘Can I have it or not?’ I snap.
He sniggers and relaxes back in the sofa, folding his arms.
‘You know what?’ Suddenly I see red. ‘You’re right. This is ridiculous. You never had a part of it in the first place. I was just devastated by Freddie and you were... Well, you were just there, weren’t you?’ I get to my feet, but he’s faster. He looks stunned, as if I’d hit him. As I try to leave the room, he grabs my arm hard and drags me to a halt.
‘Get your hands off me or I’ll have you for assault,’ I warn, meeting his furious glare head on.
‘If you dare write about this, I’ll sue you,’ he threatens in return, practically hurling my arm away.
I back towards the door, then hurriedly open it. I know he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on – I change all the details of the men I write about – but I don’t bother pointing that out. As I say, he never had a piece of my heart anyway. We’re down to eleven.
‘Slag!’ he calls as I hurry down the path.
Charlie gets out of the car.
‘No, don’t,’ I say firmly, shaking my head at him. ‘April,’ I remind him. ‘Come on. I just want to go.’
Chapter 38
