Existence, well what does it matter?
I exist on the best terms I can.
The past is now part of my future,
The present is well out of hand.
The present is well out of hand.

Heart and soul, one will burn

(Heart And Soul – Joy Division)

'Peace offering?' Inwardly I cringed as I uttered the words and offered Golda a Latte Macchiato.

'Never ever grovel.' Hal would say. But this was an emergency . She was standing in the way of my plan. Right now I'd do just about anything to get rid of her, and if groveling was part of that, so be it.

That stupid git Kane thought I was trying to poison her. I waited impatiently while he tasted the coffee and told her it was clean. For a moment I wished I had poisoned the beverage. The sight of Kane dropping dead would have been deeply satisfying.

At first it looked like my ruse would succeed. Kane was ridiculously upset when I told them about Piot's unfortunate accident and I could see he tried Golda's patience. But when I asked if I could borrow him she refused point blank and made it very clear she didn't want me involved in any of her dealings. Not now, not ever.

The unfairness of her actions hurt, and the humiliation stung like acid. I craved revenge as I left. As soon I was out of earshot I called Tom.

When I arrived home there was a postcard from Regus. I recognised his sloppy handwriting. On the back of a picture of a pleasure pier he wrote: 'The future's so bright, I've gotta wear shades. CM1592HF. R (&M).'

I wondered who M was, what his message meant and why he'd written to me in riddles. Twice. HF – have fun? It wasn't as if we were best friends. I knew he thought I was sly and an opportunist, just as I'd always thought he was a stubborn, slightly stuffy historian. Did he know about Golda, and why was he hiding in some seaside town with someone named M?

My hand was shaking as I picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass. I needed something stronger, but that would involve another trip to Stoker's, and I'd had enough of Golda today, thank you.

Matthew was in court today, so I had the place to myself. I paced up and down my office and the hallway thinking of ways of making things right again. I was losing control, the reins slipping from my hands. This is not how it's supposed to be, I told myself, but I couldn't think of a solution.

I called Dewi and asked him to meet me at the club. 'On my way, Mr Cutler.' He said eagerly. Just as I'd expected.

I said hello to Anthony and his men, and beckoned Dewi to follow me. 'Show me.' I said.

'Show you what, Mr Cutler?' he asked.

'Everything. Let's start with the exits.' I suggested.

He knew his way around the place, I had to grant him that. It was a labyrinth, full of narrow corridors, offices and storage rooms. Next he showed me the basement. He hesitated for a split second before he walked down the stairs. 'Do you have the keys, Mr Cutler?' he asked, somewhat nervous.

'I do.' I reassured him. 'Don't worry.' So he was still scared of his dad and what he'd done to him? I thought of Tom McNair and how he'd adored his foster father who'd killed his biological parents. Fatherhood mystified me. But then my dad had died when I was six, and that was so long ago that I didn't have any clear memories of the man.

'What's over there?' I asked. There was another door, but Dewi wasn't very keen on opening it.

'Just another cellar.' He said, doing his best to sound indifferent, but failing desperately. I remembered what he'd told me in the park.

'Wait here.' I said, and opened the door myself. I turned on the light. Dewi had been right. It was just another cellar. It had been used as a storage room once. Now it was abandoned, just like the rest of the club had been before the start of the makeover. There was damp on the ceiling and there were spots of what looked like spilled frying oil on the concrete floor.

On a pile of cardboard boxes a tabby cat was sleeping. It woke up as soon as I came in, and screeched. 'That's Moron.' Dewi said from the doorway. 'Don't try to stroke her - she's mean. She scratches everyone who comes near her. And sometimes she bites. It really hurts. My dad must have decided to leave her here. Good riddance.'

For a moment the cat looked as if she was about to attack me, but when I showed her my fangs and hissed her tail thickened and she fled. 'Don't worry.' I said to Dewi. 'I'm more of a dog person.'

Dewi bought biscuits in a nearby supermarket and made builder's tea. I drank mine standing, so as not to get my clothes dirty. 'Dewi here knows everything there's to know about this place. I think he'd be useful.' I told Anthony.

'He doesn't look very strong.' Anthony objected.

'No. But he's clever. And cheap. He'll do everything you ask of him.'

Dewi smiled, and poured Anthony another tea. We'd just had a little talk. Dewi needed a job and I needed someone to watch the place. Anthony owed me, but he sometimes forgot about that when he was under pressure.

'I'll think about it. I could use some extra hands, now that Harry's on sick leave.' Anthony decided. He knew better than to say no to me.

Tom still hadn't called me. Had he killed Kane? Or had he failed, and had I lost him?

'Are you working late?' I heard Matthew say. I hadn't seen him come in.

'Why?' I asked.

'I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents in law. It's their wedding anniversary.' He looked tense. 'I completely understand if you need me here. It's just –'

'Don't grovel.' I said. 'Never grovel. No one will take you serious if you do. Now, what do you want?'

He grinned sheepishly. 'It's not exactly what I want. But my wife'll kill me if I don't show up.'

'So?' I insisted.

'So I suppose I don't want to work late tonight.'

I looked at my watch. Seven PM. 'Get me a curry first.' I said, and looked at my phone. No messages.

'What?' he said.

'A curry. Chicken Vindaloo. It'll only take you ten minutes. Then you're free to go and celebrate.'

Still no news. I picked at my food. Matthew hadn't been happy. Maybe it was time for him to leave. I couldn't use him if he was holding grudges against me. I had far too much on my mind already, and didn't have time to worry about his loyalty on top of everything else.

I opened a file, looked at the papers and closed it again. I turned on my computer and looked at my twitter account. It hadn't been tampered with. Good. Golda might have nicked my laptop, but she was clearly no wiz kid. Not surprising, really. Computers had been rare in the eighties, and she looked like she was still stuck in that decade.

My phone rang. 'Mr Cutler?' Tom. Thank god.

'How are you?' I asked, relieved. My investment was safe. He was alive.

'I'm fine, and so is Allison. We got the bastard, just like you told us. He was a bit over confident, like, but Allison got him. She's a natural.' He sounded excited, but there was also sadness in his voice. Like when I'd talked to him at the police station. I didn't understand. He'd found himself a female vampire slayer – surely, that should make him happy?

'Are you alright?' I asked, somewhat impatient. I had to resist the urge to leave immediately, and confront Golda with the loss of her second buddy.

'I'm alright, Mr Cutler. It's just, I don't know. It's Allison. She's different – not like she was before. And that scares me, to be honest. Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mr Cutler?'

'Tom.' I said, ignoring his question and trying to sound parental. 'It's new, and that scares you. That's completely normal. She's probably just as scared herself.'

'I don't know about that, Mr Cutler. She thinks it's all just a game, telling me I'm a vampire and I should stake her and all.'

'What?' I coughed, trying very hard not to laugh. It was funny, though.

'See? I told you she was acting all weird. That's not how it's supposed to be, is it? McNair never said it would be like this.'

No, he wouldn't, I thought. McNair must have tried all he could to keep Tom away from girls. Kind of cruel, come to think of it. Tom was twenty one and had never had the chance to fall in love before. No wonder it scared the shit out of him.

'What happened, Tom?' I asked.

'We had a row, and then she left. I need to find her, but I don't know where she went.'

'Maybe she went back home?' I suggested.

'No, she says she can't. Who wants a werewolf for a daughter, she said. They must be worried sick, her parents.'

'Do you think they know?'

'No, it would freak them out. She's kept it a secret. Do you think you can help me find her, Mr Cutler? She liked you. I think she'll listen to you.'

'I'll see what I can do. Don't you worry. She'll be back before you know it. That's what usually happens.' I reassured him, and tried very hard not to think of Rachel. She hadn't come back. She was the exception, but then she hadn't left me of her own free will.

I didn't give much thought to Allison. I had more important things to do. I left for Stoker's in a hurry and almost stumbled on my way up to the conference room. Golda was on the phone. 'Problem?' I said casually, confident that time finally was on my side.

Her fury was impressive. For a moment I thought she was going to kill me. But help came from where I'd least expected it.

'Leave him alone! I've got your back.' Allison. She was here, a stake and a crucifix in her hands, trying to look threatening. She had guts, I had to give her that. Coming here and confronting Golda all by herself. But it was a fool's errant. She was no match for Golda. Two kills did not make her an expert vampire slayer, and Golda was a tough one.

To my great surprise Allison managed to overpower Golda. She was just about to stake Golda when Tom came in and told her to stop. I couldn't believe my ears, and neither could Golda.

Golda smiled when Allison let her go. A devious little smile. 'She's dangerous.' I warned the wolves. And she was. Allison was too inexperienced and naïve to play this game and win. As soon as she shook hands with Golda, Golda took her chance. I'd seen it coming. I knew Golda – she was like me.

No. I didn't think or hesitate. Instead I lunged for the stake and stabbed her with it as hard as I could.

Golda turned to dust, leaving her clothes in a sorry heap on the floor. I looked from the dark red blood on the stake to Tom and Allison. Allison nodded and Tom smiled at me. All of a sudden Tom looked inexplicably mature for his age. Vampires do not kill one another as a rule. But now I had.

My ears buzzed, and there were voices screaming in my head.

There are good vampires out there. I've set you free. You betrayed us for a dog? For a werewolf – there's a difference. It doesn't have to be like this. I don't want you to thank me. Wait 'til the Old Ones hear of this. She's dangerous. You're becoming the drunk who never buys a round. That's not fair. You like the blood, though. I'm a friend when you need one.

I smiled back, relieved.

'Are you alright, Mr Cutler?' Tom asked. All I could do was smile. I killed the bitch. I sat down on the stairs, suddenly dizzy.

Allison touched my shoulder. 'That was a very brave thing to do, Mr Cutler.' She said.

Brave? Not really. I'd stopped Golda from killing Allison because I didn't want Allison to die. That would only upset Tom, and I needed him for my plan.

'Come on, then.' Tom said. 'Let's get you out of here. You could do with some fresh air.' They helped me get up and I let them. What the hell was happening?

He wasn't just grateful, it was more than that. It was almost as if he cared about me. Not many people had in my lifetime. My mother had, in her own suffocating way. And Rachel. And sometimes I thought Hal had too – a little, that is. I'd forgotten the feeling. And now here it was and it scared the shit out of me.

We sat outside in silence for a while. Not long now before the Old Ones would arrive. Would things get better? Everything had been so clear for the past few weeks. I had a plan and that would bring me fame. Recognition, fortune. People would look up to me. But since Golda's arrival things had gone astray. I wondered what Regus's message meant.

In a short time the world would change. The new world wouldn't be a good place for humans and werewolves. I looked at the young sweethearts. They were smiling and whispering, sharing petty secrets in a world of their own. I had been like that once. Before Hal took my humanity away.

Allison touched me. Again. 'That was amazing, Mr Cutler.' She smiled, and then she frowned, as if something had occurred to her. 'Be right back.' She said breathless and ran inside.

'Allison, what are you doing?' Tom called after her.

'She'll be alright. There's no one there.' I said, staring into the darkness. Not long now. I wished I wasn't so tired.

'I've got it!' Allison returned, excited. In horror I looked at the notebook she was carrying. Talking about loose ends - this was a huge one. Damn.

'What's that?' Tom asked.

She sat down between us and opened it. 'This -' She said proudly, '- must be what she used for her "expose the werewolves" campaign. Not anymore, though.'

'Careful.' I said. 'Maybe it's protected against unauthorised use.'

She looked at me, hesitating. 'Do you think so? Yes, I suppose it may be. Well, we'll see about that. I had an excellent for computer skills last term.'

While she turned it on I feverishly tried to remember how many files were on it that might implicate me.

'This is weird.' She said. 'Some of it is password protected, but not all.' She opened a media file. It was a video of a naked woman having sex. Except she was alone, and her neck was bleeding.

'What the hell's that?' Tom said, grabbing the notebook from her.

'I don't know. It looks like pornography, but there's only one person in that video.' Allison said and tried to take the notebook from Tom. He didn't let go.

'It's degrading.' He said. 'That Golda woman was very sick. I'm glad you killed her, Mr Cutler.' He said, and before Allison could react he threw the notebook into the water. 'Good riddance.'

Thank you Tom, I said in silence, and thank you Golda, for your little weakness. I was safe now.

'What did you do?' Allison said, and looked at Tom angrily. 'There might have been useful information on it.'

'It was filth.' Tom said. 'I don't understand why you wanted to look at that.'

'I didn't want to look at it! But now we'll never know if she acted on her own. You've destroyed the evidence.'

'I'm quite sure she acted alone.' I said cheerfully. 'You killed her accomplices. So there's no harm done. I completely understand, Tom. That was disgusting.'

Allison sighed and took something from her coat pocket. I could feel it before I saw it. Her crucifix. I turned away from her, shielding myself from the blasted object with my arm. 'Would you mind putting that away?' I asked her, trying to sound calm.

'Allison, you're hurting Mr Cutler.' Tom said.

She giggled and put it away. 'Oops, I forgot.'

The pain subsided. 'Sorry, Mr Cutler.' She said.

'It's okay.' I said, but it wasn't. Allison was far to clever for my liking. If anyone would be able to see through my disguise it was her. 'Time to go home.' I said.

I drove them home. 'See you soon.' I said to Tom. 'Take care.'

'You too, Mr Cutler.' He said, and held open the door for Allison. 'Are you coming?'

'I am, I am.' She beamed. Before I knew it she leaned in through the open window and kissed my cheek. 'Thanks again, Mr Cutler. You're a true friend.' She said and followed Tom inside.

I'd succeeded. I'd got rid of Golda and more importantly, I'd gained Tom's and Allison's trust. What more did I need? A stiff drink, a bath to wash away the smells of the werewolves and Golda's perfume, and a good night's sleep. Things were looking up again. The Old Ones were coming.

Next day I started recruiting. It was the part I didn't particularly enjoy, but it was necessary. I had to, if I wanted to avoid another Golda debacle.

I made sure the bikers' clubhouse was almost deserted, because I didn't think I could handle more than one of them at the same time. 'Hey, Pluto.' I said to the single, longhaired biker inside. He was tall and looked dangerous. And he clearly didn't like being called Pluto.

'What did you just call me?' He said threatening, and walked towards me.

I shrugged. 'Just taking the Mickey.'

He didn't get the joke. He spat on the floor and came closer. He was quick, but I was faster. The second he grabbed me I went for his jugular. With his strong fingers he pinched me. It hurt, so I bit harder. He fell down like a log of wood.

I looked at my watch. Three fifteen. They were supposed to have a meeting by four, so there was plenty of time. I swallowed some of the man's blood and waited.

I'd just let him drink from my blood when a second biker came in. 'What have you done to Johnny?' he said, and tried to attack me. This one was smaller, but meaner. I kicked him in the shins and he stumbled and fell. The next bit was easy. I ambushed two more. My all time record.

When number four was out cold I wrote a note, saying the meeting was adjourned due to a sudden death in the family. I stuck the note on the outside of the door and locked every entrance to the clubhouse. Next I pulled down the blinds and bolted the doors on the inside. I put a plaster on my bleeding wrist and waited.

When the others arrived and discovered the place was closed they soon left. Now all I could do was wait for my recruits to wake up. At last they did, one after the other, somewhat dazed. 'Who are you?' the first one asked, still very weak and confused.

'I'm your maker.' I told him. When I was sure they all paid attention I blackened my eyes and showed my fangs. That frightened them. I told them what they were and what was expected of them. They were like putty in my hands. 'The four of you will be my special unit from now on. Stay with me and you'll achieve great things.' I promised. They didn't protest.

I bought each of the lads a suit. Martin Finbar, my tailor, greeted me warmly. He wasn't the least bit surprised. 'So this is one of your projects, Cutler.' He said pleasantly. We were both members of the local Rotary club.

'As you can see. How's your "Koi for Kids" project going?' I asked in return.

'Brilliantly. You should come and see us some time.'

I promised him I would.

'I know, we're all busy. Still, it's good to see you can still find the time to do something for our little community.' He shook hands with my new recruits.

'How much do I owe you?' I asked him.

'No, I won't hear of it.' He said. 'It's the least I can do. By the way, your Tom Ford suit has arrived. Would you like to try it on?'

'Not today. Maybe tomorrow.' I declined, and showed my pupils the way to the changing rooms.

There was so much to do and so little time. But that was fine, now that there were no more obstacles in my way, I was relaxed once more, and confident that I could pull it off. Anthony had almost finished renovating the club and Dewi kept an eye on things for me. I'd hired a DJ and bartenders, and had used all my contacts to assure enough publicity for my one-off event.

And I'd instructed my recruits, who would act as security staff on opening night. I was just preparing them for the arrival of the Old Ones, when someone forced open the doors.

Not again, I thought, and stopped talking to see who it was. It was a man. I was just about to tell him to sod off, when I recognised him. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Different clothes, different hairstyle, but the same piercing eyes, albeit a little tired. Hal. My maker. He was alive. But he couldn't be.

'Where's Hal?' Dominic asks.

'Talking to that stupid dog again, I guess.' Fergus says.

'As if you would know. I bet you're don't even dare go near the creature, Fergie.' Wyndham says scornfully to Fergus. He looks at his watch, and then at me 'You're behind schedule. That's sloppy. And I don't like sloppy.'

Wyndham gives me the creeps. I shrug. 'We're all set. Maybe one of the humans died prematurely, and Louis has to find a replacement. Those things happen.'

'They don't. Not where I'm in charge. This is no way to treat a guest - what was your name again?'

'Cutler. Sorry.' I say, raging inside.

I leave Fergus and Dominic to wait on Wyndham, and go looking for Hal. I have to tell him Wyndham is not amused. Talking to that dog, Fergus said. I take the stairs down to the cellars. Hal is spending a lot of time in the company of this werewolf, Leo. Our prize fighter. Hal's the one who caught him, and so far Leo hadn't disappointed us.

To be honest Hal's fascination for Leo worries me. He's taking unnecessary risks, and he spends less and less time with his friends. With me. Take this visit from Wyndham. The old Hal would never run away from his responsibilities. He would be at Wyndham's beck and call, just like I am at his.

The cellars are cold and damp. On the left side the humans are imprisoned, and on the right side, isolated from the rest, the werewolf is kept. The walls are strong enough to stop a fully transformed werewolf. It has been Leo's home for months now.

The door to the cells is ajar. I call Hal, but there is no answer. Everything is quiet. Maybe he's already left and arranged for Leo to be taken upstairs. But he wouldn't leave the door open. I look inside the room. It's empty, but something isn't right. The chains that held the wolf are broken, and there's a bundle on the dusty floor. Hal's clothes. His shirt, trousers, shoes and tie. And there is blood.

This isn't happening. Hal's a legend and legends don't die. He is my maker – there's no way he'd get himself killed by a werewolf and leave me. And it isn't even a full moon yet. I pick up the shirt and brush off the dirt, and then I realise that of course it isn't dirt, but Hal's ashes.

I've just scooped up a handful, when Wyndham comes in. 'What's keeping you, Cutter? Where's Hal? And where are you hiding that dog? I can smell the ugly beast.' He says.

'It's Cutler. My name's Cutler. And I think Hal is dead.' I say, and collapse against the wall.

'It's you.' He said. I hugged him. He was real, even though he didn't hug me back. That should have made me suspicious, but it didn't, not until he suddenly left after I'd offered him a drink.

I was still recovering from the shock of seeing him, alive when I thought he had been dead for all these years, when Mark said: 'I thought you said your maker was an Old One?'

I emptied both glasses, to stop myself from shaking. 'And he is. We haven't seen each other for fifty-five years. First impressions can be deceiving. You won't believe what he's capable of.'

Mark looked at me incredulously.

'Give the man some credit.' I said.

They were quiet, not entirely sure what to make of the sudden intrusion. I resisted the urge to leave, follow Hal and ask him what was wrong. I was responsible for these men. We had a job to do.

'Right. Where were we?' I said.

When I arrived at the office I told Matthew he could take the rest of the day off. 'Enjoy the good weather.' I told him. He was surprised I was in such a good mood, but he didn't protest and left in a hurry, afraid I might change my mind.

I sat down behind my desk, and rubbed my eyes. Hal was alive. Not dead. I had to pinch myself a couple of times before I could accept it was true. So what had happened all those years ago?

I couldn't help but think of the past. I'd neatly stashed those memories away into some remote compartment of my brain, but now they emerged. That happened a lot lately.

We had never been equals. Hal made me, and Hal called the shots. But that was a long time ago. Where had he been hiding all that time? Had he missed me?

The sickening smell of Rachel's decomposing body was back. My hands felt sticky from stroking her hair once more. He'd killed my wife and then he'd made me drink her blood. My hand trembled and I almost dropped my phone when it rang. It was Dewi.

'The club's all ready, Mr Cutler.' He told me.

I left early. Stoker's was quiet, just like I preferred it. I'd ordered Johnny and Simon to find me a couple of extra security guards. 'No recruiting.' I'd warned them. 'We don't want to wake up Barry just yet.'

I made myself comfortable in the upstairs conference room, and waited, certain that Hal would come back. He took his time, and while I waited I thought of him. Part of me was happy that he was alive. But most of all I was confused. He hadn't died, so why had he left without telling anyone? Without telling me?

I thought back of the days after his disappearance. Wyndam had questioned me for hours on end, convinced that I was the one responsible for his death. Leo the werewolf was never found. After a couple of very uncomfortable days Wyndam had decided I was innocent. 'He hasn't got the guts for this kind of scheming.' He told everyone.

From that moment on they'd looked at me with different eyes. They laughed at me. Cowardly Cutler, lost without his maker. I'd stopped socialising with the other vampires soon after. Had Hal ever thought of what he had done to me?

What kept him so long? I played several games of Diamond Twister on my iPhone, drank a couple of glasses, and played Hangman for a while. I'd prefer to tweet some more about werewolves, but I was afraid Allison might find out. I was getting more irritated by the minute. Hal shouldn't have left without telling me, and what the hell was he thinking, making me wait this long?

I'd had enough. Things were going to be different from now on, I decided. And then I heard him come up the stairs. I'd recognise the sound of those footsteps anywhere. He'd come back. Thank god. 'Funny thing is, I've been thinking about you recently.' I said without looking up.

He was clean. Had been clean for the past fifty-five years. Amazing. It made me a little envious. But he wasn't as strong as he wanted me to believe. A promise to satisfy his curiosity and a second offer of blood were all it took to make him give in. It was sad, really.

I watched without emotion how his body reacted to the fresh blood. Mark, the bald biker, had provided it. Mark was a fast learner. 'Carry on like this, and you'll have a great future ahead of you.' I'd promised him.

Hal recovered quickly, pulled himself together and stood up straight, looking at me with dark, empty eyes. This was the Hal I remembered. A little blood could do miracles. I wrote the address of the club on one of my business cards. 'Tomorrow evening. Come at eight.' I said, and sat down, without looking at him.

He left without a word. 'Follow him.' I texted Mark, who was waiting downstairs.

'Where did he go?' I asked Mark when I called him.

'Residential area. Some boarding house. I guess that's where he's crashing. He's still in there. What do you want me to do? I've gotta go to Cardiff, as you asked me.'

'Call Bobby. Let him take over from you. Tell him not to let him out of sight and call me as soon as anything remotely interesting happens. Did you check for a back door?'

'It leads to a fenced garden, full of junk. If he comes out, it'll be by the front door. I've got him covered.'

'Good. Keep up the good work.' I said, and ended the call.

'Who is she?' I asked Bobby, more than a little annoyed that he'd called me so soon. I had a terrible headache which even a steaming hot bath couldn't cure. It had been a major drawback when Tom visited me and told me he couldn't take part in my plan anymore. Bobby's story better be good.

'No idea. Not one of us, obviously. She's hot, though.' Bobby said. 'He definitely likes her. He's very smooth. That thing he did with the barstool –'

'That's enough, Bobby.' I said and buttoned up my shirt. The blood must have done the trick. But had Hal already given in? I didn't think so. He'd abstained for fifty-five years. It would take more than a single glass of blood to revive the old Hal. 'Stay there.' I told Bobby. 'And text me as soon as anything interesting happens.'

Tom's refusal to be part of my plan had been a disappointment, but it hadn't been much of a surprise. Allison's influence was written all over it. She had completely drawn him in with her preaching of world peace and harmony. I didn't understand. Golda had almost killed her, surely that must have been enough to wake her from her soppy dream?

I put on a green tie. If anything reflected my mood it was that hideous thing. Tom's polite arguments had caught me off guard for a second. I should never have shouted at him. He was trying to do what was right, which was more than I could say of myself. I just wished he wasn't so bloody conscientious. First Hal, then Tom. I had to smooth things over.

'She's leaving.' Bobby texted me.

I was standing outside my favourite restaurant. 'Follow her and take her to the club.' I improvised. A new plan was developing. Through the window I could see Tom sitting at one of the tables. He was fidgeting with a napkin, not used to his new surroundings.

Things were looking up. I had Tom exactly where I wanted him. He'd even bothered to put on a shirt. I could see he was very uncomfortable in this environment. The obligatory tie increased his anxiety. A little later he apologised for not helping me out with the Old Ones. 'Hey, Tom, it's fine. Really.' I put him at ease.

Allison had gone back to her parents, he said. But he was going to put things right. He was going to educate himself. For a moment there I felt like professor Higgins in My Fair Lady. But then I remembered what was at stake. 'She's going to stick around, is she? She won't hook up with anyone else?' I said casually. Always drop your bombs with care.

His eyes grew big as he stumbled over his words trying to explain Allison wasn't that kind of girl. I told him her parents would adore him. 'What's not to love?' I reassured him. When it was time to order our meals I selected the quail. 'You should try it.' I suggested, but to his credit he chose the ravioli instead.

'What are we doing here?' I ask. It's the most expensive restaurant in the area. I've passed it several times, but I never imagined I'd be going in one day.

'Why? What people usually do in restaurants. Eat.' Yorke says and inspects the glasses. There are six of them, three pairs in different sizes. Yorke raises his hand and a waiter approaches.

'How can I help you, sir?'

'This glass is dirty.' Yorke says.

'I'm very sorry, sir. I'll get you a new one instantly.' The waiter takes the glass, which looks fine to me, and leaves. Yorke smiles. He picks up the menu, and reads it. He looks up from the card and says: 'I'll have the quail. You should too.' I nod. I've never had quail before. 'Excellent. You chose the wine.'

I look at the card and swallow. None of the names are familiar. Some I've heard of, but never tasted. 'Red, of course.' Yorke says. That doesn't help much. The menu is in French. My knowledge of the culinary aspects of the language is restricted to 'vin rouge' and 'vin blanc'. But the menu doesn't say so. I can feel Yorke's gaze and decide to take a chance. I'm glad there are numbers. I order number seventeen.

'Excellent choice, sir.' The waiter comments. I take a deep breath, relieved.

'Well, well.' Yorke says, 'Who'd have thought you're a connoisseur?' There's a mocking little smile in the corner of his mouth. It's as if I've just passed a test. With sheer luck.

The waiter comes back with the wine, uncorks the bottle and pours some in one of the glasses. He then looks at me expectantly. Oh. He wants me to taste? Carefully I pick up the glass and take a small sip. I let it roll in my mouth for a bit, and swallow. 'Fine.' I say. I 'm so aware of Yorke's stare that I haven't tasted the wine at all. The waiter raises his eyebrows. Yorke nods, and the waiter leaves, visibly relieved.

'Don't worry.' Yorke says. 'The only reason they're all staring is because they are bored. Just ignore them.' I look around at the other guests, but I don't see anyone looking at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable anyway.

I try not to stare at Yorke, but all I can think of is how completely at ease he is in this posh environment. I don't think he's ever felt self-conscious, and I envy him. I don't belong here, and it shows. They are too polite to openly acknowledge it, but they all know. But not Yorke. He blends in perfectly.

He's still not told me why we are here. I don't ask again. The meals arrive. Large white plates with what looks like a miniature chicken in the middle. A tiny skeleton with barely any flesh. It looks anything but appetising and I wonder how I'm supposed to eat it.

'Aren't you hungry?' Yorke asks, and raises his glass. 'Cheers.'

I look at his plate. He's literally attacked his food, crunching the little bones between his jaws. I've only picked at mine, and I've drunk rather too much wine. Good wine. I'm a bit tipsy. 'Mr Yorke, I'm sorry about the other day.' I say, referring to what happened in my garage. 'I just can't. She's my wife.'

He frowns, and wipes his mouth with his napkin. 'Hey, Nick, that's fine.' He says, and smiles. 'You're such a sweet couple.'

'Are you sure?' I said. I'd just asked Tom if he wanted some coffee and brandy to conclude our meal, but he'd refused.

'No, thank you, Mr Cutler – Nick. I've got to ba - I mean be somewhere. But thanks very much for all of this.' He said and shook my hand vigorously.

I didn't mind. My work here was done, and I had other things to attend to. Like Hal's girl. 'Got her.' Bobby had texted me an hour ago. 'See you soon.' I said to Tom, and watched him leave.