Page 4 of A Night with Damien Spur

Her mother had warned her.Don’t scowl, don’t pucker – and no big smiles. It will give you early wrinkles and crow’s feet.

Mirror, mirror, stay away. The years slip by. Stuck with her ex-husband, who has nowhere to go.

‘Please, Anna,’ he said, ‘I’ll pay the bills. Can’t help being ill. I’ll find a place. But, for now, please let me stay with you. I don’t feel safe by myself.’

Anna felt sorry for him. And, to tell the truth, she needed the extra money.

Especially if she wanted to stay pretty. Find another fella. Give up being a dogsbody. But nearly four years down the line the ex still hadn’t left.

Never mind. David Rose was her penance and duty. All those years when he pursued her, wooed her, looked after her.

David Rose, the once famous Mayfair restaurateur – patron of the legendary Valentino’s, which he’d named after the eponymous lothario – had lived for romance.

Handsome waiters dressed in white shirts and velvet waistcoats served impeccable dishes and an excellent wine list.

And if music be the food of love, to encourage proposals, a beautiful couple sang romantic ballads, reclining on a chaise lounge atop a rostrum strewn with flowers in the centre of the room, accompanied by a pianist.

Very soon, Valentino’s became the go-to proposal restaurant. But money and fame had given David a taste for playing the tables. It started well enough. Sparked by his wins at roulette and blackjack he continued his nightly visits to the casino until Lady Luck turned her back, his gambling addiction took hold of him and he lost everything to chance.

After a quick shower, Anna returned to her dressing table. She peered at her face again.

Be brave, Anna!A lovely face. Almost doll-like, save for the landscape of fine lines etched around her sparkling almond-shaped eyes.

No time to waste. Swiftly applying mascara, tinted moisturiser, and her “kiss me” lip gloss, she gave her long dark hair a curt brush.

Next, she slipped on a simple, shift dress in a soft shade of powder blue, hastily clipped on delicate pearl earrings, and tucked her dainty little feet into cream leather kitten heels.

Audrey Hepburn style, her heroine, ever since she’d seenBreakfast at Tiffany’s.

No need to think about her life, just get on with the day. And tonight, after she had made the dinner, she would close her bedroom door and write. Keep the demons at bay. Escape into her beautiful world of hope, where everything turned rosy pink and there were no dark angels.

The children’s stories she told in her nursery-school days had always captivated the little boys and girls. What a gift she had. Such a bitter twist that David and she hadn’t been able to have kids of their own. A low sperm count, the doctor had said. They had tried IVF for two years with no happy ending.

But for now Anna had taken a job as a medical receptionist. Despite her talent as a teacher, the nursery schools were taking younger women – they were cheaper. Anna’s magic with children wasn’t considered at a premium.

Down she went, swooping past her ex, whose extended temporary residence was in the guest bedroom.

She held her breath, and waited for his daily request.

‘Anna, make me a cup of tea,’ he wailed from his bed. ‘Please, Anna…’

‘No! I’m going to be late.’

Resigned, kettle boiled, she brought him a white mug of pale grey liquid. She crept into the darkened room and turned on the light.

‘Oh, it’s hurting my eyes! Please turn it off.’

‘For goodness’ sake.’ She opened the curtains. ‘I’m going to be late. I need this job.’

‘I once was a man. Don’t make me feel like a loser. You’ve had a good life, Anna. I’ve done my best.’

He glanced at the tea. ‘You could have let it brew for longer.’

‘Don’t push your luck.’

She gulped down an instant coffee with a dash of milk, grabbed her coat and off to Planet Earth she went to the medical practice in Harley Street.

There were no seats on the packed bus to Baker Street. Steadying herself on the handhold, her legs braced stiffly apart, Anna stared in disgust at a young man with a mop of blond hair and full, girlish lips who sat with his backpack in a designated place for the disabled and elderly. He was too busy texting to notice her. She felt giddy. The heaving bodies squeezed her bones.

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