NOTE FROM RIOTTORI: MORNING, ALL. ONCE AGAIN CAN I THANK YOU ALL FOR THE COMMENTS AND MESSAGES THAT YOU HAVE SENT ME. I WISH I COULD REPLY TO SOME OF THE GUESTS TOO BUT I CAN ONLY DO THAT IF YOU SIGN IN. ONE LAST THING: ALICE DIDN'T WORK AT LORENZO'S, IT'S ANOTHER RESTAURANT (ALTHOUGH ONE THAT A AND C FREQUENTED). OKEY-DOKEY, BACK TO THE STORY...

Ana:

He really has left me alone. Just like I asked him to. I can't actually believe it. A frisson of frustration grips me. My husband usually has difficulty relinquishing control with the small things so why now? Why now with something as big as our relationship? Our marriage? I sit behind my desk at work, rifling through a few manuscripts. They are mainly romance, hearts and flowers. They don't break my heart, they make me mad. This isn't real life, I want to shout. Real life is peppered with problems, with affairs, with deceit.

Wow, he's really tainted you, Ana. The voice has just uncovered one root of my anger, knocked off the soil I have buried it in so it is exposed. It is a throbbing root of hurt. I had believed in hearts and flowers, happily ever after – I'd been so naïve. He had given it to me, for a while at least. Would we ever get that back? Or was I fundamentally damaged, a black hole gaping in me that could never be filled no matter what we did?

His deceit had opened me up to haunting, too. The worst ghost of my past, her, Mrs Robinson, visits me at night. She places her face close to mine in the dark and laughs at me. She always said I wouldn't be enough and I wasn't. In many ways, that was one of the hardest things to accept. That my enemy, a woman I hated with the intensity of the sun, had been right about my husband, about us. And he'd let her be.

Christian:

I've tried to stay away. I couldn't bear another storm of truth from Ana, words like hail, hitting, each one hurting. I felt that with each word, she took a step away from me. But I also made a promise. On our wedding day and last week. I will fight for her.

I give the package to the courier with a silent prayer that this will work. Please, let this work.

Alice:

He won't see me. He won't meet me. He won't even talk to me on the phone. Fuck! And it was going so well, everything was perfect. He was beginning to open up, to let me in to his world. He'd even started to look at me a little like he looked at her. Fuck! It was almost in my grasp, almost in my palm. Mine. But it's been ripped from me, he's been tugged from me, leaving scars as he went. Fuck! What's more frustrating than the time and energy I had expended, was that I was so close. I just needed a little more time to topple Mrs Grey from her throne, to sit on it myself. I'm afraid that may never happen now. But I won't go back to my role of handmaid, servant girl, waitress. I won't. Fuck!

Ana:

My assistant, Marie, knocks tentatively on my door. She's been able to tell that something's up – possibly because of my loss of appetite. I have refused her offer to go and get me something for lunch for days now, pretending that I eat when I go to the coffee-shop I like. I don't. I sit and drink sweet tea, like they recommend for people in shock. I feel like I'm in shock. When I return to the office, I keep on finding muffins and pastries on my desk, hints that I need to eat; little, edible signs of Marie's love for me.

"Ana? I've got something for you."

I smile, appreciatively. It's nice that someone's looking after me. I hold out my hand to accept her baked good but am shocked when she goes out and retrieves a fair-sized box.

I look at her, my face filled with questions. She holds it out to me. I think I know who it's from.

"The courier just delivered it. It's been scanned – there's nothing dangerous in there." Oh, Marie. Don't be so sure.

I force a smile on my face, desperate to be left alone with the box. Come on, Pandora. Open it!

I take it from her; it feels deceptively light, although I'm sure what lies inside will be weighty – heavy with memories and emotion.

Marie looks at me, reflecting my unsure smile back at me.

"I'll just be out here. If you need me."

"Thanks, Marie." I reply, softly. She leaves.

And it's just me and the box.

Christian:

I'm waiting and pacing. Waiting and pacing. She must have received it, must be opening it now. I imagine her opening the box, carefully, like there's a bomb inside. I try to imagine her reaction – will she react? – but I can't see her face, the face I know so well. So I'm waiting and pacing. Waiting and pacing.

Alice:

I'll find a way to get back in. I'll find a way to catch my king.