Between Friends by Jenny Harper

me to acknowledge the little bastard either, because I never will.’
    He tossed the keys on the kitchen table.
    ‘Here. I won’t need these again. I’m taking the last of my stuff. And by the way,’ he stopped in the doorway and spun round, ‘I’m getting married.’
    His smile was more wounding than any accusation.
    ‘Wish me happiness.’
    Jane sank onto a chair, her legs weak. Married? Who to? What was he talking about? How could he accuse her of infidelity? Had he been unfaithful? All those times she was away, had he been sleeping with someone else?
    Married?
    ‘After your little mistake...’
    Dear God – how had she ever thought the past was buried? She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. It wasn’t dead, it never had been, it had only been hibernating.
    ‘Bye, Witchy.’
    Tom half turned, and registered the brown eyes, wide and scared. Great stuff, really great.
    He stepped onto the path. Behind him, the door clicked shut.
    On the coatstand in Jane’s hall, a brown fedora hung limply.

Chapter Eleven
    Carrie logged on to Bed Buddies after work. She was sitting cross-legged on the white rug in her living room, her laptop perched perilously across the angle between her calves and her thighs, Lily Allen crooning on the sound system. She scanned her message board.
    
    
    Nothing from Jury Service. Shame – she quite fancied a romp with the dear man tonight. She abandoned her message board and searched the Edinburgh area lists.
    
    Star Turn? She had spotted his posts before. He always sounded entertaining – a little spicy, a little full of himself perhaps, but deliciously wicked. Once before, when she was in London on business, she’d been on the point of sending him an invitation, but something urgent had cropped up at work and her attention had been diverted. She clicked a link and went into a secure chat area.
    < Star Turn, this is D.A. Delight, responding to your offer. I can be as serious as you like. Or maybe we could just have a few laughs? Free tonight, just say the word. And the word is ... justice.
    The reply came at once.
    
    It wasn’t the wittiest of chat-up lines, but it would do. The usual precautions were necessary, that went without saying. The arrangement was to meet for drinks in the bar at the Salamander Hotel. Over a couple of gins she would be able to assess whether or not she wanted to proceed upstairs. If she didn’t like the look of the man, she would simply say goodbye. It had happened a few times and it was no big deal. Carrie was very discriminating and took no risks. When she met her regulars, she often had dinner first – though sometimes she preferred room service. Room service with Jury Service. That was funny.
    The Salamander Hotel in Leith, Edinburgh’s dockland district, was a bit of an oddity. Tucked away in a side street, it missed out on custom by being off the beaten track. The area was hardly Edinburgh’s most salubrious but the hotel itself, originally the home of some nouveau riche dock manager in Victorian times, was hidden behind a large wall and had a pretty garden. Some years ago, Carrie remembered, the building had been derelict, the tiles on its roof slipping, the windows cracked and dismal. Green fungus had lurked round leaky downpipes, and the paint on doors and window frames had been peeling. The potential of the place had been spotted by an enterprising young couple, Tim and Stella Morrison, who had used all their savings to renovate the building and turn it into a small hotel.
    Carrie liked the Salamander because it was discreet. The car park was hidden behind the high wall, the area was not much visited by the smart set of Edinburgh city, more by foreign