A man’s leg was lying across her, pinning her to the bed.

Who was he? Where was she? Twisting as best she could, Lottie looked but couldn’t see his face. He was lying on his stomach. Raising herself on to her elbow she winced with pain and with it came a sudden memory flash.

Shit. Shit. Shit. She’d been drinking.

She felt the tiny gum-drop tears edging out of the corners of her eyes and self-hate rose with the rotten bile lurching up from her stomach. She was going to puke.

Kicking up her legs, she dislodged his, slid out of the bed and crawled towards an open door. She reached the toilet in time to throw up.

The rancid smell of alcohol filled the bathroom as she heaved once more, before settling on to her haunches. Dressed only in her mismatched underwear, she didn’t care and sat there cradling her pounding head in her hands. She only cared that she’d lost control at a time when she needed to be in total control.

A shadow fell across the doorway, then the light flicked on, blinding her.

‘Would you like a cigarette?’

Boyd.

She cried in earnest then. She couldn’t help herself. She hated herself.

‘What have I done?’ she asked, averting her eyes from his.

He eased his long body, clad only in boxer shorts, to sit beside her on the cold tiled floor.

‘You were drunk and rang me to come get you, which I did. You begged me to bring you here, then you propositioned me.’

He lit two cigarettes, passed one into her quivering fingers.

‘Against my baser instincts I resisted your cajoling. By that stage you weren’t capable of anything other than sleep. Apart from forcibly undressing me.’

She inhaled deeply, mortification flushing her skin.

‘Lottie, what’s going on?’ Boyd asked, blowing smoke circles in the chill air.

‘I haven’t a notion.’

‘You need help.’

‘I need to get a grip on my life.’

‘You can’t do this on your own.’

‘Watch me,’ she said.

‘I am and I don’t like what I’m seeing.’

‘What does that mean?’

He inhaled his cigarette. Silence wrapped itself around them.

‘You were crying in your sleep,’ he said, eventually.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.

They sat and smoked to the sound of the toilet dripping. Then he dampened the butts under the tap, threw them in a shiny bin under the sink and led her back to his bed. He tucked her in, kissed her forehead, fluttered his hand through her hair and slid in beside her. Lottie hung on to the edge of the bed, creating an imaginary line between them before falling into a soft sleep.

She awoke and sat upright. Alone. She twisted the clock to see the time: 6.38 a.m. Nestling back down into the comfort of the pillow, Lottie was thankful it was Boyd she had imposed her drunken self on and not some faceless bar pick-up. Her children! Shit. She jumped up abruptly. She had to get home before they woke.

Boyd walked in, fully dressed in black trousers with white shirt, and handed her a mug of coffee. The aroma tingled at the base of her nose. She looked into his eyes, questioning him silently.

‘Don't worry. I can be discreet. Drink up. We’ve a long day ahead of us.’

‘You’re a good man,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’ve five minutes to wash and dress,’ he said and walked out of the room.

‘Sadist,’ she said.

‘It takes one to know one,’ Boyd’s voice echoed.

She had to smile.

She pulled on yesterday's clothes. At least she’d the sense to have changed out of her pyjamas last night. Finding a crushed Xanax in the back pocket of her jeans, she stuffed it in her mouth and washed it down with two gulps of coffee. She needed the artificial calmness to delete the night and face the day.

She picked up the pack of cigarettes and secreted them in her pocket. She only smoked when drunk. Do not go there, she warned herself and left the bedroom.

Outside, the sleet blitzed the cuts on her face before she ducked into the car.

‘Drop me home first,’ she said. ‘I’ve to check in on the kids and change my clothes.’

The swishing of the wipers was the only sound in the car. Neither had much to say to each other and that which they were thinking was probably best left unsaid.

Boyd pulled up outside her house. She hoisted her long legs out of the car.

‘Thanks, Boyd.’

‘What’ll I tell Corrigan if he looks for you?’

‘Tell him I’m following up a lead.’

‘What lead?’

‘When I figure it out, I’ll tell you.’

She closed the door with a soft thud. Time to resurrect strong Lottie. Before it was too late.