Page 71 of I Knew You Were Trouble

He regards me for a moment, then puts his sunglasses on. ‘Okay, Kate,’ he says, and it’s hard to say if I’m relieved or disappointed. ‘This way,’ he says for the tenth time today, and I rush to catch up.

‘I meant to ask…’ I say, falling into step with him. ‘How is it you know Verona so well?’

Without breaking stride, he replies, ‘My ex-girlfriend lived here.’

‘Your ex-girlfriend? You never said anything.’

He looks down at me, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses. ‘Maybe one day I will.’

Right, that’s me put in my place then. Just when I thought there might be more between us than a mutual dilemma.

* * *

‘You’re back in London already? And what do you mean she wasn’t there?’ asks Margot incredulously.

‘Exactly that. We went to her gallery and there was a handwritten sign on the door saying she was on holiday in Mykonos.’ I take the phone away from my ear and swap to speakerphone so I can unpack while I talk. It’s after 10p.m. and all I want to do is fall into bed, but I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve put everything in its place.

‘Who does that? Who sticks a handwritten sign on the door, then leaves for a week?’

‘Jon’s new girlfriend, that’s who. And apparently, it’s not uncommon – although Willem said it’s mostly in August when half of Europe is on holiday.’

‘So, what’s happening there?’ she asks.

‘Happening? What do you mean?’ I reply cagily, not wanting to go into it.

‘Stop pretending,’ she chastises. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘Nothing happened – exactly as I’d intended,’ I add hurriedly.

I deliberately haven’t told Margot about the sleeping arrangements because she’ll only harp on about it.

‘Uh-huh,’ she replies, and I can clearly picture her look of disbelief.

‘So, what did you get up to last night?’ I ask. I’m becoming a master at changing the subject.

‘Book launch – for my friend, Gayle. You remember her?’

‘Oh, yes, the illustrator.’

‘And satirist – brilliant gal.’

‘Is this the picture book about divorce?’

‘That’s the one – it’shilarious, Kate.’

‘How can itnotbe? I mean, the topic alone – that’s a laugh a minute, right there.’

‘Yep,’ she replies, missing my sarcasm. ‘I bought you a copy – Gayle signed it.’

‘But why? Isn’t it for women who are divorced – orgettingdivorced?’

‘It’s for all of us, every woman who’s been wronged. There’s an entire section on cheating bastards.’

‘Oh,’ I say, suddenly deflated. I stop what I’m doing and sit heavily on the edge of my bed. ‘I suppose you’re right about that. God, Margs, I’m a woman scorned.’

‘Well, don’t get all maudlin on me. You’re not Tess of the bloody d’Urbervilles.’

‘Tess—’ I wave my hand, even though she can’t see me. ‘Doesn’t matter. It’s just that now I’m one of those women who?—’

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