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This is way more serious than some teenage crush now, or the flattery and novelty of an older man paying her attention that will eventually fizzle out. He won’t be letting her go. Not until he gets what he wants. It’s a dangerous playground – unfamiliar territory for Belle, filled with evil beyond anything she could ever comprehend. And the only reason I know is because I was once there myself.
‘You OK, love?’ a voice says.
Slowly, I look up. Rugby player man is standing beside the table again, looking concerned.
‘He was bang out of order. I’d dump him, if I were you.’ He laughs behind his sandy beard. ‘Life’s too short.’
I force myself to speak. ‘I wish it was that easy,’ I say quietly. ‘Thanks for stepping in.’
‘No problem,’ he says, leaning on the back of the empty chair opposite me. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
I pause. ‘Actually, yeah, thanks. I could do with one. Gin and tonic?’
‘No problem,’ he says, heading through the crowd to the bar.
A few minutes later he returns, putting my drink in front of me. He’s holding another pint for himself.
‘Do you mind if I join you? They’re talking about football. Not my thing.’
I stare up at him. ‘Sure, help yourself,’ I say, pointing to the chair. ‘Thanks for this. Cheers.’
‘Cheers. To getting arsey boyfriends to fuck off.’
‘Oh,’ I say, managing a laugh. ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘Lucky for you. I saw the rage in his eyes.’ He sips his pint. ‘I’m Grant, by the way.’ He holds out a big hand across the table.
‘Hannah,’ I say in return, lightly shaking his. Small talk is the last thing I want right now, but I’m grateful to him for the drink. I can’t go home as wound up as I am.
‘So who is he, then?’
‘Sorry?’ I drag my eyes away from the street outside, praying he doesn’t come back. Or worse, that he isn’t waiting outside for me to leave.
‘Mr Angry.’
‘Long story,’ I say, hoping that will suffice.
‘That lot will be talking about Arsenal’s form in their last game all bloody night, so I’m all ears, if it’ll help.’
Despite his size and crooked nose, Grant exudes gentleness. Though as I know only too well, looks are deceiving.
‘He wants something I don’t have, is the short version,’ I tell him, watching a bead of condensation snake down the outside of my glass.
‘Then you can’t give it to him, can you?’
‘Trust me, he’s not good at taking no for an answer.’
‘Clearly.’ Grant sits back in his chair, thinking. He has kind eyes, I notice – the complete opposite to the poison-filled slits that belong to Jack.
‘I took something from him,’ I suddenly find myself admitting. ‘Well, not him. His boss. But they’re one and the same.’ I might be imagining it, but something inside me feels a fraction looser from the confession. ‘But it was a long time ago.’
‘A grudge holder, too, then.’
I nod. ‘Thing is, I knew it was wrong, but I had no choice.’
Grant tips his head sideways, nodding slightly. He’s listening intently.
‘I was young and I had a new baby,’ I say. ‘We were in a bad situation.’ As good as it feels to talk about it, I don’t want to say too much. I’m too used to holding everything inside.
