‘Umm.’ Rosie can hear Anna squirm; she clearly has no idea what to say, but not saying anything isn’t an option. ‘I just want to thank Lucy for her opinions and I want to remind listeners that Sebastian Kent is still in a position of huge trust and influence and has behaved completely inappropriately, given his unique position. We know he hired a vulnerable woman for sex. It is absolutely in the public interest to know these things.’
‘OK. Thank you, Lucy, for calling in, and thank you, Anna, so much, for joining me today.’ Lydia’s voice is all smiles.
‘Thank you, Lydia.’ Anna sounds a bit lost, distracted, like she’s forgotten the final few points she really wanted to hammer home, but Lydia’s already moved on.
‘Well, I think, listeners, we can all agree this is a very fiery start to our programme today. As ever, comments welcome, so please do text or leave us a message on our socials at
Rosie clicks the radio off and settles back into her chair. Almost immediately her phone starts ringing. It’s Anna. She must have just got out of the recording room, Rosie her first thought. Rosie rejects her call. She can’t listen to her apologies, her justifications.
Seb’s laptop bag is still on the kitchen floor where he’d forgotten it earlier. She’s made her decision before she’s even stood up from her chair and pulled the computer out of the bag. Suddenly, where she once felt anger and repulsion at what Seb has done, she feels a great aching loneliness. She still has no idea what the future holds for them, whether she’ll be able to look at him without seeing Abi twisted around him, without seeing the empty eyes of all those naked women, but she does know, in the same way she knows she loves her children, that Seb is not a danger to anyone. She opens up the laptop and follows the steps to delete the search history. Her finger hovers for just a moment above the return key and as she presses the button she feels a great rush of warmth. It’s unusual and she’s not exactly sure where it comes from, but as she closes the laptop, she realizes that the feeling isn’t for Seb or even for the kids; the warmth is from Rosie to Rosie. A small gift of appreciation for listening at last to what she knows to be true.
Her phone buzzes on the table. Anna is calling her again. This time, too, she rejects her call; she doesn’t want to talk to Anna. She picks up her keys, feeling strangely energized as she ignores the third call from Anna, and walks out of her home to find the other person she should have been listening to all along.
Chapter 18
Abi doesn’t answer her door immediately. The intercom for the flat is old and there’s no video so she doesn’t know who is ringing. Best-case scenario: it’s Diego, apron still on, and he has run straight over from the restaurant after reading the desperate text she sent him just a few minutes ago. Worst-case scenario: it’s Lotte, Anna and a band of furious women who have figured out it must be Abi. Lotte will fire her on the spot and Anna will tell her that Lily and Margot are being told their mum has lied to them all their lives, that their mum was a whore.
She’s been through worse, Abi tells herself fiercely, remembering the man who put his hairy hand around her neck, his weight pinning her, his red face above, spittle flying. That had been bad, but at least her home wasn’t under siege, at least her kids were well away.
Whoever it is outside, they’re not going away.
Her phone lights up with a message:
It’s Rosie, Abi.
They haven’t spoken since Rosie kicked Abi out of her car.
Please, I just want to talk to you.
She could hide, of course, pretend she’s not home, but hiding has never in her experience made anything better. She walks slowly down the stairs and opens the front door. It’s stopped raining but the air is rich with the smell of wet, slowly decaying leaves.
Rosie’s standing on her doorstep, looking nervous. ‘Can I come in?’
Abi opens the door a little wider. Rosie has to bend low to clear the fake cobwebs the girls have laced across the door and Abi gestures. ‘The kitchen’s straight ahead.’
They turn to face each other in the tiny kitchen. Something has shifted in Rosie because she’s not looking at Abi with revulsion or pity. She’s not looking at her like Abi’s mum did, when she found out. Rosie’s eyes are gentle, softer than Abi’s seen them before.
‘You heard the radio show?’ Rosie asks, her voice steady.
Abi nods, looks to the ceiling briefly. ‘Thank God for Lucy, hey?’
Rosie nods, breathes out. ‘I’m sorry, Abi.’
Abi’s first thought is that this is a sick joke, that Anna and the red-faced pitchfork crew are about to burst through the door, but Rosie is looking at her so steadily, her voice calm. ‘I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry you haven’t got the change you wanted for your family, the chance you deserved. I’m sorry I didn’t try and understand, and I’m sorry people like Anna … well, I’m sorry about Anna.’