'Yes, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you,' she said, thrusting the newspaper into his hands. 'I was busy. The Amy Hart story pages three and nine if you're interested. It would never have happened without you, so thank you,' she said, mustering all the dignity she could.

'Anna, stop. Let me explain.'

She avoided his gaze.

'No, it's fine,' she said. 'Nothing should ever have happened between us. It was wrong. Although I hope you got back together with Jessica after after you whisked me off to Provence and told me you wanted to spend every weekend together having an adventure.' She held up her trembling hand. 'No. On second thoughts, I don't want to know.' you whisked me off to Provence and told me you wanted to spend every weekend together having an adventure.' She held up her trembling hand. 'No. On second thoughts, I don't want to know.'

He held her shoulders and looked at her with those blue eyes.

'Anna, I loved every moment I spent with you.'

'Stop it, Sam. Don't patronise me.'

'I'm not,' he said pa.s.sionately. 'It was just ...' His voice tailed off. 'I guess it was just bad timing.'

Hot humiliation burned her cheeks.

'Fine,' she croaked. She knew she was too weary to battle with him. And besides, what was the point?

'She's pregnant, Anna. Jess is pregnant.' His voice was barely a whisper. 'She came to see me yesterday and told me. That's why I came out here with you; that's what I had to explain.'

'Congratulations,' Anna said softly. His hand reached out to touch her fingers, but she pulled them back.

'You do understand, don't you?' said Sam. 'It's the right thing to do.'

His eyes met hers, and she knew he was asking her to tell him he was right.

'You'll be a great dad, Sam. I mean that.'

She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and, in some strange way, relief. Her decision had been made for her.

'Really, I must go.'

Through the long arched windows of the house she could see Jessica watching them.

'Sam, go back inside. Do what's best for you and for your baby.'

He nodded sadly, then turned and walked back to the house, closing the door behind him, not even a backwards glance.

Anna squeezed the car keys into her hand. Do not cry, she told herself, knowing Jessica would be watching. She turned and hobbled to the car, got inside and closed the door. One single tear escaped down her cheek. The case was over. It was all over. She turned the ignition to start the engine and motored down the drive.

69

He saw her through the crowd, at a quiet table by the window of Claridge's restaurant, where Matt had managed to wing a last-minute reservation using Larry's name. Carla had always looked beautiful, but tonight Matt knew she had pulled all the stops out. In a cream fitted dress scooped low at the front and her blonde air piled up on her head, she looked sensational. She was holding on to a gla.s.s of champagne, her long fingers playing up and down the stem. Was she as nervous as him? No, Carla was always in control, he thought. She always knew what she wanted. But what was that?

'You look great,' he said honestly, bending to kiss her cheek.

'You're not so bad yourself,' she smiled as he took his seat opposite her.

He played with his napkin absently. This was like being on a blind date, that mild apprehension of not knowing how the evening would pan out, or what he would think of the person he was meeting. It seemed ridiculous to feel that way. After all, Carla was someone so familiar to him, whose body he knew intimately, someone he knew inside and out, good points and bad. And yet he had no idea what to expect from the evening and where it might head. Despite the words of wisdom from his father, despite the internal conflict in his own head, he knew that tonight was the time to make up his mind about what to do: try and reunite with his ex-wife, or relegate their media-room pa.s.sion to one night of madness. But taking a seat opposite her, he was none the wiser about what he wanted. She certainly looked incredible. So much so that he was aware that half the men in the restaurant were looking at her. But instead of feeling pride, he had a vague sense of discomfort. He knew that she had dressed to please him, so why did he feel more guilty than aroused?

'This feels weird, doesn't it?' she said.

'We've been for dinner before.' He glanced at the menu, but his appet.i.te had deserted him.

'Not like this,' said Carla. 'Somehow it feels more grown-up. Like we've finally arrived and we're not just playing catch-up with all these couples who are richer and more successful than we are.' She looked at him approvingly. 'I like the new you, Matt Donovan.'

Her bright blue eyes played with his. Even in the early days of their relationship he had known that she was so beautiful and ambitious, she would one day move up and on, to the next better, brighter opportunity. He'd been right, of course, but now it seemed as if he was was that brighter opportunity. He couldn't help feeling flattered. that brighter opportunity. He couldn't help feeling flattered.

'Well I'm not sure there is a new me,' he joked. 'I have a new job. That's it. I'm still the same underneath this slightly more expensive suit.'

'I suppose,' she said, but her smile told him she didn't believe a word of it. Suddenly Matt felt awkward under her gaze, as if she was seeing something in him that wasn't there.

'So how was Ibiza?' he said, to change the subject. 'Fabulous. Except for the terrible brats that came along with the host's friends, Marc and Lucia Hamilton. Do you know Marc, a hedgie at Solitaire Capital?'

'Not the circles I move in, I'm afraid.'

'I'll introduce you.' She said it as if it was a done deal.

The sommelier came over with the bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

'I ordered some fizz.'

'Of course.'

Carla leaned forward and touched Matt's hand.

'I can't stop thinking about the other night,' she whispered, a flirtatious smile on her face. 'The night before I went to Ibiza. Was it always that good?'

'I'm sure we had our moments.' Under the table he could feel her touching his leg with her shoe. He imagined her naked in the media room and sat back in his chair.

'Don't be nervous,' she chided. 'Although I am too. I feel like a schoolgirl. Who'd have thought it, me and you, giving it another go?'

She announced it, so typically, as if the decision had already been made, and suddenly it was as if a fog had lifted. He took a breath, knowing that the words he was about to say would change the course of not only his life, but also his son's.

'I'm not sure we should give it another go, Carla.'

As he swallowed hard, he watched her eyes grow larger. It clearly wasn't the response she had been expecting.

'You didn't seem to think that when you were f.u.c.king me by the popcorn machine,' she hissed.

'Carla, please,' said Matt, glancing around at the other tables.

'And what about Jonas?' she snapped. 'Have you thought about him? For three years you've been banging on about how Jonas should have a father. I've bent over backwards to make sure you have your weekends together. So how come now, given the opportunity to be a family again, you're running for the hills?'

'Of course I've thought about Jonas,' said Matt angrily. 'I want our son to be brought up around love, not around two people who have nothing to say to each other any more.' He surprised himself that he was quoting his mother's letter.

Carla looked at him with contempt. 'What is this, Matt? Some sort of payback? Just because I hurt you once, you're sticking the knife into me at the first opportunity?'

'Of course it's not like that.'

The waiter came over to take their order, but Carla waved him away.

'You're a jerk, you know that?' she snapped, her mouth puckering to nothing. 'You've had every opportunity in life, and you've thrown them all away. You could have had a job in the City, but you chose your stupid little practice in Hammersmith. You could have me, and yet ...' She stopped, her eyes widening with the thought that had occurred to her. 'You've met someone else, haven't you? Who is it? A secretary? The office girl? You're the only man I know who chooses to punch beneath beneath his weight.' his weight.'

'Carla, I'm not involved with anyone,' he said firmly. 'But that's really not what this is about.'

'What is it about, then?' she said, her face sour. 'Go on, surprise me.'

'Do you want me, Carla?' he asked quietly. 'Do you love me? And I mean me me, not the shiny new version of me with a great job and money to afford restaurants like this?' He shook his head. 'Do you like who I am? Even know who I am? That I like blues guitar and Fulham Football Club. That I spend my Friday nights ordering in the world's best dumplings from the takeaway on Chiswick High Street. That I come home from work and want to do nothing but read a Robert Ludlum book and listen to Seventies jazz I collect on vinyl.' He felt a huge wave of relief, knowing he had pinpointed what had always been the problem with his marriage and what he had never wanted to admit. 'I'm not special, Carla. I'm just an ordinary bloke. This is who I am, but I like who I am, and honestly, if you look inside yourself, I think you want something very different to me. Jonas is all we have in common. I've wrestled with it and I'm not sure it's enough.'

Her beautiful face sneered at him.

'So that's what you think?'

He nodded.

'You're right. I suppose we should end this charade and let you get back to your Chinese takeaway,' she said sarcastically.

'Carla, please ...'

'Have a wonderful life, Matt, thinking about what could have been.'

She threw her napkin on to the table and stalked out.

Watching her go, Matt realised that he would always be a little bit in love with her. In love In love. Wasn't that the thing that everyone aspired to be? But right now, it felt like a shallow, flighty emotion. He desired Carla. He always would. But he didn't love her. Not any more. He wasn't even sure he liked her.

He picked up the champagne bottle and filled his gla.s.s to the top, knocking it back in long, greedy gulps. He waved for the bill, apologising that they would not be dining tonight after all, and made his way on to the street. A vendor on the corner handed him an Evening Standard Evening Standard and he used it to wave down a black cab. and he used it to wave down a black cab.

'Chiswick, please,' he said, slumping back into the seat.

Relaxing in the creaking plastic, he felt an enormous sense of relief. He would never know if he had done the right thing. One day he might even be able to discuss it with his son. But it felt right. It felt honest.

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap. 'Sam and Jessica Reunited!' it announced, above a picture of the celebrity couple. For a minute he forgot about his own dilemma back at the restaurant as he speed-read the short accompanying story.

Poor Anna, he thought, feeling his mouth droop with sadness. She had been out of the office for the last couple of days, but when he had spoken to Liz Hart the previous afternoon she'd called him to thank him for his contribution to the case she had told him that Anna had gone to Wiltshire to see Sam Charles.

He looked at the photograph of Sam and Jessica Carr and felt furious. He was glad that Anna wasn't seeing this silly, shallow sod any more, but the thought that Sam had been cheating on her made him feel mad.

She didn't deserve that. Not after the office rumours he'd heard. That her ex-boyfriend, the newspaper guy, was marrying her sister. How could anyone handle two slaps in the face like that?

He pulled out his mobile and stared at it for a moment. It felt strange calling up a colleague to ask her about her love life. But he remembered how lonely it could be in those first hours, days of betrayal. When his relationship with Carla had ended, his friends and colleagues had avoided him. 'We wanted to give you s.p.a.ce,' they later said. But all he had wanted to do when she had left him was talk to someone, and right now, all he wanted to do was check that Anna Kennedy was okay.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi grumbled up to her little whitewashed cottage in Richmond. Matt didn't need to ask how she was feeling when she answered the door. Dressed in grey marl joggers and a baggy T-shirt with a cartoon pig on the front, she had a sullen 'who cares?' manner about her.

'I hope you like curry,' she said, gesturing towards the silver cartons on the table. 'I'm s...o...b..ng out with a takeaway.'

'Perfect,' said Matt, pulling off his tie. 'My meal at Claridge's got aborted.'

'Not because of me?' She smiled.

Matt laughed.

'Now that would be going above and beyond the call of my supervising partner duties.'

'I thought Helen was my supervising partner?'

'I'm not sure she's going to be at the firm much longer,' said Matt. He gave her a knowing look, and she nodded.

'What's going to happen to her?'

'Let Larry sort it,' he said quietly.

'Do you think she'll go to prison?'

'If Larry's got anything to do with it, he'll arrange something much, much worse.'

'I should tell Sam about Helen,' Anna said finally. 'He's got a strong case for damages.'

'That's big of you. I'm not sure he deserves it.'

'Sam didn't deserve to get crucified,' she said, pouring out two gla.s.ses of Pinot and handing him one.

'So how are you?' he asked, taking a sip. 'When did you find out?' He wasn't going to let the matter drop.

She spooned out the chicken pa.s.sanda.

'Before it was all over the Standard Standard, thankfully. I drove to his house yesterday and she was there.' She stopped, looking down at the table. 'It seemed a long way home afterwards,' she said quietly.

'Did you like him?'

She nodded.

'Yes. I liked him.'

'Were you in love with him?'

'After two weeks? Don't be daft.' Her cheeks had gone bright red. 'Sam's had a lot of stick, and he brought plenty of it on himself. But I think he's a decent person underneath it all. I'm just not sure he was the person for me. And I certainly wasn't the right woman for him.'

'I'd pick you over Jessica Carr any time.'

He regretted saying it instantly, but it was true.

They clinked gla.s.ses and began to drink, sharing stories about their disastrous love lives and other anecdotes from their past, joking at their mistakes and foibles. In the taxi he had felt a bit stupid getting in touch, but now he knew that she welcomed the gesture.