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‘You were having a panic attack. Cold water snaps your nervous system back. It’s worked.’ He set the glass down and crossed his arms, like the smug bastard had just discovered the cure for cancer.

I pulled off my soaking wet hat, my new hair dripping.

‘Here you go, madame,’ the steward said, handing me a small towel. ‘I’m so sorry – we panicked. I thought he wanted you to have the water to drink.’

I was speechless, raging, but somehow did feel slightly better. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. I rubbed the towel over my face and hair, then stood up and unbuttoned my fur coat, which now looked like a giant drowned rat.

‘Don’t ever do that again!’ I warned. ‘I’ve just had my hair done. I was . . . fine!’

He chuckled to himself. ‘You were far from fine, hen. But what do I know?’ He shrugged, his dark brown eyes skimming over me.

I sat back down, utterly infuriated – and then my phone began ringing again.

‘Aggghh, for fuck sake!’ I screamed, standing up and throwing it full force into the bin of the steward’s trolley. Then I sat back down with a thump.

‘Aye, you’re definitely no fine, hen,’ he muttered, a small crease appearing on his face. Jesus, even his smile was fit.

We continued the rest of the journey to Scotland in silence. I had nothing but my own thoughts for company as I raced through every possible scenario now that my marriage was fucked. I started thinking about money and the business, worrying about the financial impact this would all have on my life. Given his background, Rupert had always handled our money. I wondered how protected I’d be. My channel had made us millionaires, but he controlled the accounts, and now, with no phone, I had no access to my banking apps.

I sank into the complimentary wine with only my own thoughts rattling through my head as the train cut through the green and white hills of Scotland, and all of a sudden a different kind of panic settled in. I hadn’t warned my parents I was coming. I hadn’t been home in fifteen years. I hadn’t even set foot in Scotland – well, except for a PR stay in Turnberry, but even then, I hadn’t made it through to Glasgow. I was so far away from that life, that world.

I’d had a childhood full of love and drama in equal measure, but from a young age I’d wanted more. I didn’t want a life where I was always struggling – always one bad decision away from everything collapsing again. I hated the chaos. The police at the door. The shame. The scraping by. That was my life growing up. My mum was the most loving mother imaginable – overbearingly so at times – and even after all this time, she still sent me a birthday card with a twenty-pound note sellotaped inside like I was little kid. And my dad, I guess, was your typical father: happy in front of the telly, happy to be catered to. But when I was twelve, my world fell apart when he was sentenced to five years in prison for robbing the local off-licence. It felt so sudden, so out of nowhere. He was a hard-working man, but he always did enjoy a drink. And one day, he decided to help himself to the money from the till and the booze from the shelves, and he was too intoxicated to notice the security cameras capturing the entire incident.

I could never understand why he did it, why he’d risk his family’s reputation for a few cans of beer. I was angry, raging, disgusted at him. Regardless, my mother would drag us up to Barlinnie every Sunday to visit, and I despised every second of it. I hated watching her cry because we had no money. I hated having to go round to my granny’s just to get some heat when our electricity and gas meters had been cut off. I hated knowing other kids got summer holidays and amazing Christmas gifts while I watched my mum choose between buying me a gift or having food on the table. I hated all of it and I vowed that when I left for university in London, I would never come back.

And yet, here I was.

Chapter Six

The train arrived at Glasgow Central just after 6 p.m., and as everyone else filed out, I sat completely still. Overwhelmed didn’t cover it. I was thinking about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours when I noticed the man from across the table heading towards the doors, then turning back.

‘You coming, princess?’ He smirked. ‘This is the last stop, doll. You need to get off.’

I rolled my eyes and nodded. ‘I know that. I just need a minute.’

He huffed. ‘Right, well, whenever you’re ready.’ He pulled out his phone.

I stared at him, wondering why he was hovering. ‘You don’t have to wait for me – I’m a big girl.’

He laughed. ‘I suppose I feel like you need someone right now. You’re not right – I can tell. So, for my own peace of mind, I’d rather walk you out.’

My chest crushed a tiny bit. Was I that unhinged person on the train that meant my fellow passengers feared for their own safety? Ideal.

I shimmied out of my seat. ‘I’m moving, look!’ I said, pulling on my damp jacket and hat and making my way off the train with him now following behind. I stepped onto the platform and instantly felt the chill Scottish air hit my face like a brick. I wrapped my arms around myself, hopeful to keep any heat in my body.

‘Aye, proper cold up here, eh? That’ll put hair on your fanny!’ my train companion said, zipping his tracksuit top as far as it would go.

‘How lovely,’ I said as we manoeuvred through the barriers. Between him and Rupert’s chilli con carne, I couldn’t decide which was a worse way to describe the weather. ‘You know, I probably wouldn’t be so cold if you hadn’t thrown a glass of water over me.’

We were at the end of the platform now, standing under the iconic clock. The station remained exactly the same after all this time.

‘You hit a bad one.’ He shrugged. ‘You OK now?’

I glanced around. Nothing had changed, the shops, the white cold floor, the pigeons hovering above your head waiting for someone to drop a chip, and yet my stomach churned with nerves.

‘I’ll be fine. I’m going to take a taxi to my parents’.’ I managed a small smile despite my nerves.

He nodded, then tilted his head. ‘Let me guess – Bearsden? West End?’