Page 9 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘What about your dad’s watch?’

‘Oh, he’s probably sold it by now.’

‘But you said it wasn’t worth anything.’

Flick hesitated, knowing she should probably leave it alone, but also knowing she couldn’t.

‘You said yourself, he didn’t steal that watch because of the financial value, he took it because it was there and he can’t stop himself. I doubt he ever had any intention of getting it fixed. He didn’t care about its sentimental value, that it meant so much to you. Because you’re right: Theo Stratin is a bastard.’

Always remain dispassionate. One of the golden rules of journalism, and yet here she was breaking it and getting personal.

‘Don’t you want to confront him? To warn other vulnerable women and men? Don’t you want to show him and the rest of the world he didn’t break you?’

There was a moment’s pause and then Maggie spoke.

‘But he did, though, didn’t he?’

Maggie’s voice was so quiet Flick almost didn’t hear it above the sound of the rain.

‘Look at me. My life’s a mess. I’m broke, unemployed, living in a caravan . . . Everyone talks about mental health these days; well, he shattered mine. I wasn’t always like this, you know. God only knows what you must think of me, but I used to have my own art gallery. A lovely home. A life. He ruined everything. I had confidence, faith in my abilities; I felt sure of myself. Now I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust my own judgement. Do you know what that feels like? Like everything was a lie.’

Broken, Maggie shook her head.

‘The sad thing is I loved him. But you want to know the scariest? Part of me still does.’

Standing at the doorway, Flick absorbed her words before replying.

‘Can I tell you something, off the record?’

Maggie nodded.

‘Without you there is no story.’

The truth. That’s what people always tell you to say. Because it’s the truth that sets you free. But telling the truth is scary. It takes courage and vulnerability and trust.

And you have to be ready.

There was a pause as the two women looked at each other.

‘I can’t. I’m sorry,’ Maggie finally said.

‘You don’t have to be sorry for anything.’ Hiding her disappointment, Flick smiled kindly. ‘But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.’

And leaving behind a business card, she opened the door of the caravan and stepped back out into the rain.

The Local Echo

‘You want to go where?’

‘It’s just for the weekend.’

‘Hang on, so let me get this straight. You want to go gallivanting off to the South of France for the weekend to try to get an interview with some love rat?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t be gallivanting; I’d be investigating.’

‘And you want the paper to pay for it?’

‘Yes, that’s sort of the idea.’