Page 9 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘Yes, I bought a roast chicken and some salad. Lucky I didn’t pass out in Waitrose or we wouldn’t have had anything to eat this evening, would we?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, David! You’re at home all day and it takes you ten minutes to walk to the shops. The man next door is eighty-six and walks with a stick and he still manages to go out and buy the groceries. And you make such a big thing of it.’

Anna gave him a cursory look and, grabbing the remote from the side table next to his chair, switched off the TV.

‘What are you doing?’ David whined. ‘Turn it on.’

‘No, I’ve got a headache.’

‘Yes, sure. Come on, you just want to make my life a misery. Why can’t you let me be?’

‘Poor you, sitting on your backside all day doing nothing, complaining how ill you are and yet you can still go down to the bookies and place your bets.’

‘That’s the only pleasure I get!’ he said. ‘I’d like to see how you’d cope with a dicky heart and chronic asthma to boot. You’re a bloody ball-breaker, you are!’ he shouted, his voice collapsing in a breathy wheeze. ‘Look at me.’ He clutched his chest. ‘I’m a bloody wreck. Why don’t you get a gun and shoot me? I’d be better off dead.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Anna screamed back. ‘I’m tired of your histrionics. Four years of hell. I’m fed up with your insults. Ball-breaker! How can you say that to me, you revolting man? You should have married a fishwife. At least you would have talked the same language. I’m going upstairs for a rest.’

She was exhausted. Lucky he didn’t ask her for a cup of tea, or she would have thrown it at him. It was as if she wasn’t awoman anymore. To think how he once had adored her. Called her his angel.

Said he would die for her.

Sometimes she thought if only he would. No more visceral slanging matches cutting each other to pieces, always ready for the next bout.

She slammed the bedroom door, kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the mattress. Propping a pillow behind her head, she googled “Damien Spur wife”.

Divorced, that’s good. No need for him to lie to her.

Impressive glittering accolades and reviews made him a worthy suitor. Her mother would certainly approve.

She allowed herself a fantasy. A wish. A future where she did more than just exist from day to day, locked in, hands tied, with a man who made her feel lonely.

Things happen when you dream. Damien Spur had flirted with her. He was going to read her book. Why not?

They would be great together.

She, the writer of enchanting fairy tales, and he, the glamorous literary legend, author of iconic political thrillers and darling of the glitterati, whose novels rocked the bestseller list every time.

Anna opened the bedside drawer and took out a notepad. Write it down, plot the story. Make it happen.

She shut her eyes and visualised her plan.

Number 1. She gives him the manuscript. He strokes her hand. ‘Thank you, Anna. I’ll read it as soon as I can,’ he says.

Number 2. Damien sits next to her at Antoine’s coffee shop wearing a blue silk shirt that matches his sapphire eyes.

‘Anna,’ he says, ‘what a wonderful surprise. You have a great gift. There is no doubt in my mind thatThe Dog That Lost Its Barkwill become a fable that is passed down through generations of children. A true classic. Let’s work on it together.’

Number 3… Back to her place.

‘Oh, Damien, what pretty flowers.’ She kisses his cheek. He holds her. They linger, the chemistry is strong.

She pulls away from him and laughs. He’s still holding her waist. ‘Story first,’ she says.

She knows he wants her. Let him wait.

Anna flies high in her fantasy land as she lies on her bed, arms spread like a bird’s wings, floating in dreams of what could be, what should be.

Damien sits next to her, focused, ready to light the fuse, fire her imagination. His voice is soft and gentle, coaxing her creativity…

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