Page 110 of A Night with Damien Spur

She was drunk. Not funny drunk, but a morose, vindictive drunk.

‘Come on, Nicholas, do your angry emoji,’ she goaded.

‘I’m not angry. Actually, I was having a very nice time.’

‘Well, I’ll make it even better. I want a divorce,’ she snarled like a rabid dog. ‘It’s my birthday, in case you forgot. And that’s what I want.’

‘I know it’s your birthday,’ Nicholas said calmly. ‘Don’t you remember I offered to take you out this evening? You were meant to be home at eight o’clock. It’s hardly my fault you’ve come home at eleven, sloshed.’

‘Look at us.’ She swayed her way to the fridge. ‘Hopeless. Now then, I want to say hello to my Pinot Grigio. At least it gives me pleasure. Not like you, with your fancy-schmancy talk. I don’t understand a word of it. So why would I want to listen to you rambling on at a restaurant?’

‘Respect…’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t respect me. But do you hate me?’

‘Oh, there you go again. Poor Nick. Of course I don’t hate you… You just make me sick.’ She opened the fridge door. ‘What the hell? There’s nothing left.’ She swung the bottle in the air. ‘Who puts an empty bottle back in the fridge? I want to know, who’s been at my Pinot Grigio?’

‘Probably you, last night,’ Nicholas replied. ‘When I came home from poker, you were well and truly pissed.’

‘Better than having to listen to your mumbo jumbo – the meaning of this and the meaning of that. Why don’t you save it for bloody Sophie? You usually just come home for a change of clothes and off you go again. Well, soon you can have your London luvvie twenty-four seven.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Nicholas dunked a slice of pizza in his glass of Merlot and popped it in his mouth. ‘It’s all over with Sophie. I haven’t seen her for months.’

‘Only because she gave you the push,’ Kate said with a spiteful smile. ‘Anyway, it’s too late. I don’t give a shit who you sleep with, as long as it’s not me.’

‘That’s enough.’ Nicholas stood up from the table and took his plate over to the sink. ‘It’s midnight and I’ve got to be in London by 9 a.m. I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

He’d finish with Kate. Nothing left, no sweet smiles – just a pile of bitter memories. He’d try again with Sophie.

But Sophie didn’t answer when he rang. Nicholas couldn’t sleep. Why should she trust him? Back and forth, back and forth, wife to lover, lover to wife.

Perhaps she’d found another man. And, if she had, it wasn’t right for him to interfere. No, he must let her go…

And yet…

Chapter 35

It was the first time that Damien had attended the St John’s Wood AA.

Angus McManus, who lived in Acacia Road, had invited him to lunch at the Ivy on the high street.

It made a change from the Chelsea group. Especially as he had met a woman there with whom he’d had a brief affair and, despite the fact that it was over, she’d begun to harass him.

Damien sat on a chair at the back of the room and looked around him. There were quite a few city types who wore smart shirts and expensive well-cut suits.

A sad-looking woman with bleached blonde hair and heavy make-up, sporting diamanté-studded silver sneakers, was busy texting someone on her mobile. Her hand was shaking.

He wondered what drug she was on.

But he didn’t bargain for the emaciated old rocker propping up the wall behind him with straggly grey hair and dark glasses, chicken legs in skin-tight black jeans and leather pointy shoes.

Damien had seen him before, but couldn’t remember where, until his brain pinged. It was Aidan, his dealer. He looked so different. Not the usual smart-ass, slicked hair and Italian designer jacket. It always struck Damien that he looked more like a hairdresser than a dealer, but now perfect cliché casting.

Aidan had spotted him and that was when the Voice chimed in.

Turn the other way. For God’s sake, don’t engage. People, places and things. Keep strong.

He could feel Aidan staring at him.

Do or die. Don’t be a fool, the Voice continued.He’s been sent to test you. Come on, one hello and that will be it. You’ll be in the shit again.

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