Rory and Susie were both teachers. They both enjoyed reading, a glass of wine, a good laugh. But there, the similarities ended. And taste in men? They were on different planets.

Susie most definitely went for brawn over brain. Or muscles over mind. Or packaging over contents. However you wanted to describe it, her predilections in the men department were based at a primeval level. Which is why, Rory believed, they never seemed to last.

When Rory arrived, it was obvious that Susie had had a few drinks before she came out. ‘You’re here!’ She enveloped Rory in a hug. ‘Just in time. We need a rational voice. So far we have considered, A: framing Nathan for stealing school funds, or B: killing him. What are your thoughts?’

Penny sighed. ‘Lovely though it would be to staple him slowly to his own desk, I think we need to accept that he is going to be here for the duration, and think about how we can live through it.’

‘Have you spoken to Derek?’ Rory couldn’t imagine their amiable headteacher letting anyone bully his staff.

Penny nodded. ‘He was really nice to me, but says his hands are tied by the governors. They are the ones who employed Nathan and they love him, apparently. He’s going to have a word with Nathan, but he didn’t look too confident about it.’

Rory squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll fight this, don’t you worry.’

‘What’s all this talk of fighting, ladies?’ asked a man who had joined them at the bar. ‘Who has upset you? Just tell me.’

Susie whipped around on her bar stool, crossed her short but shapely legs, and gave him her brightest smile. ‘No one worth boring you with. You don’t look like the fighting type to me.’

He held his hands up in surrender. ‘You’ve got me. I’m a lover, not a fighter.’ He dropped one of his hands, took Susie’s and kissed it. ‘Although for you, I would make an exception.’ Susie looked ecstatic. Rory wanted to throw up. ‘I’m sitting over there with my friend. Why don’t you come over and join us?’

Before Rory could open her mouth to say that they were in the middle of something, Susie had pulled a reluctant Penny out of her seat and was dragging her over. ‘Follow!’ Susie hissed at Rory.

The rest of the evening was a predictable cocktail of flirting and innuendo. Rory only got through it by drinking. And drinking some more. Eventually, she realised that she wasn’t even part of the conversation any more. Susie was talking to one of the Chuckle Brothers and Penny, albeit less enthusiastically, was talking to the other. Far from being disappointed by this, Rory welcomed it as a good time to leave.

She put her hand on Penny’s arm and waited for her to stop laughing politely at whatever had just been said. ‘I’m going to head off.’

Penny turned around in her stool and held Rory’s arms. ‘Oh no! Please don’t go!’ She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t leave me here on my own. We’ll go back over to where we were if you’re bored here.’

Rory waved her hand hazily. ‘No, I’m not bored,’ she lied. ‘Just tired. All the work at the house – it’s taking it out of me. You stay and enjoy yourselves. There’s a taxi rank outside. I’ll be fine.’

But Rory had timed her exit badly. The rank had a very long queue and there didn’t seem to be any sign of a cab. The house was only about a forty-five-minute power walk away, though, and it would do her good to get some fresh air. There was DIY to be done in the morning, and she could do without a hangover for company.

For the first ten minutes, the walk was quite pleasant. There were plenty of people milling around on a Friday night. She felt completely safe. As she left the town centre, though, the streets emptied out, and walking didn’t feel like such a good idea any more. Then it started to rain.

Rory was cross with herself. She’d have killed Belle for walking home alone at this time of night, and here she was doing exactly that. What a great role model. With any luck, Belle would be in bed and wouldn’t see her mother falling in the (now fixed) front door, soaking wet and inebriated. Rory had done her very best to show her daughter what a single, independent woman should be like, and this wasn’t the picture she wanted to paint.

When Rory had been Belle’s age, her dad would always come and pick her up from any night out. He’d insisted upon it, often to her embarrassment. She would make him promise to wait around the corner, so that her friends didn’t find out that she wasn’t allowed to walk home on her own. She wished her dad was here to call now.

With the rain, the alcohol and the reminiscing, Rory’s mind wasn’t on her feet. When the road became darker, she picked up the pace and almost immediately lost her balance. As her foot slid sideways, it became a slapstick comedy routine as she tried to right herself, failed, tried again, and then hit the floor. Snapping the heel clean off her shoe in the process. Worse. Belle’s shoe.

Uncharacteristically, tears pricked her eyes. The events of the last week had been mounting up on her: the house, Nathan Finch, Charlie’s disappearance. And now she was sat in a puddle, with rainwater seeping into her knickers. Wrenching the stupid shoe from her foot, she threw it into the nearest bush, then dropped her face into her hands and indulged in what her mother would call a ‘good cry’.

‘Rory?’

Looking through running black mascara, Rory saw a large white van pulled over next to where she was sprawled. ‘John?’

John Prince switched on his hazard lights and jumped out, holding out his hands to help her up. ‘What happened? Are you all right?’

Taking a deep breath and wiping her face with the hem of her dress, Rory nodded. ‘I’m fine. What are you doing here?’

‘I got a call from a friend with a… er… a… stopcock emergency. I haven’t had a drink because I’m driving, so I’m going to pop over and help her out.’

Did the man never do anything but work? ‘Well, I am on my way home from my crappy night out, which was made worse by the appearance of men.’ She accepted his hand as he pulled her up. ‘Not you, obviously. You, I am very happy to see.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He looked down at her feet. ‘I’m not up on the latest fashion, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t go out with only one shoe.’

The bloody shoe. ‘No. I broke the heel of the other one.’

John nodded as if he understood. Though he obviously didn’t. ‘And where is it now?’

Rory’s face grew hot. She felt stupid. ‘In the bush.’

‘I see.’ He didn’t pursue it any further, just opened the door to his van and waited for her to get in.

Rory closed her eyes and let her head rest on the back of the seat. ‘Thank you so much for this.’

‘No problem. So it didn’t go well tonight?’

‘Nope. We were supposed to be having a girls’ night out but then Susie got chatting to some guys.’

‘And you weren’t interested?’

Rory shook her head. ‘No. Not my type.’ Which was why, even if she did want to date someone, it would be pointless looking for them with Susie. She opened her eyes and looked sideways at John. It was strange looking at him from this angle. And this close. ‘Did you say she? A female friend?’

John rubbed his nose. ‘She’s a friend of a friend, really.’

Of course he had friends. And some of them were female. Nothing wrong with that. So why did Rory feel sick? Was she more drunk than she realised? Maybe she’d hit her head as well as her backside. This is John Prince. Your builder. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Stop staring at him.

‘Are you okay?’ John glanced at her.

‘Fine.’ Her voice was almost a squeak. She coughed. Pull yourself together. ‘Sorry. I’m fine. Just tired.’

‘I’ll bet you are. You’ve been working hard on that house. People don’t realise what tough work all that prep is. Stripping wallpaper, soft soaping the walls, pulling up carpets. It’s back-breaking.’

Rory let her head fall back again. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that fixing the house was the least complicated part of my life right now?’

John smiled. ‘Actually, I would. That’s what I like about my job. You know where you are with a brick wall and pile of cement.’

Rory waited for him to ask her what was complicated with the rest of her life. But he didn’t. Men were another species.

Within a few minutes, they were home. John jumped out from his side and came to open her door. Until she stepped out from the van, Rory had forgotten about the missing shoe. She put her bare foot straight into a puddle. This night got better and better. Tomorrow would be worse. Belle was going to kill her.

---

The next morning, Rory was awoken by her mobile pinging. Slowly, she peeled back her eyelids and raised her head from the pillow – but not slowly enough to prevent the banging headache that the daylight brought. Turning over in bed to reach her mobile, she yelped as she rolled onto her bruised bottom. With the pain came a visual memory which made her groan out loud. Had she really been sitting in a puddle with only one shoe when John had picked her up? How was she going to face him? Bugger.

The ping was a message from Susie. Guess who gave out her number last night? It was difficult to be pleased for her when all Rory wanted to do was crawl to the bathroom and lay her head against the cold tiles. It was obviously one of the men from the bar who’d been given the number, and Rory wasn’t sure that was cause for celebration either. She’d reply later. Right now, she needed coffee. In a bucket.

Somehow, she managed to shuffle herself down to the kitchen – after checking Belle’s room to see if she was still asleep. When she’d checked on her last night, Belle had been tucked up in bed as promised. Maybe Rory was worrying about nothing. Belle was a sensible girl. It would take more than a blonde-haired boy to turn her head.

Rory had filled the kettle, and pressed its surprisingly loud switch, before realising that they had no milk in the fridge. There was no way she could get through the next hour without caffeine. She had a very strange feeling in her stomach which needed settling. It seemed to get worse every time she remembered John driving her home last night. Maybe it was embarrassment rather than nausea? Either way, she needed to haul herself to the corner shop and get some milk.

Five minutes later, in a hoodie she had borrowed from Belle in case she saw anyone from school, Rory opened the front door and nearly tripped over something sitting on the step.

It was Belle’s sparkly shoe. With the heel fixed.

The funny feeling was back. And this time, it wasn’t the chemical paint stripper.