‘You’d better come in,’ Saffron told him, thinking it was the last thing she wanted, but Gerry had a nasty graze on his leg from where the pot had broken and a piece had scraped it. ‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘I’ll get something to patch up the war wound.’ Ten minutes later, Saffron found herself in the bizarre position of kneeling at her ex-husband’s feet while she cleaned up what turned out to be a surface scratch. Although he was wearing a suit, he had no tie, and looked, well – grubby. He also appeared to have been drinking. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ ‘Erm, well, I don’t – hmph, it’s, well, erm –’ Gerry managed to look both abashed and brazen at the same time. ‘Come on, Gerry, spit it out,’ said Saffron. ‘It’s not like you to go all shy and retiring on me.’ ‘ThethingisyouseewellitsMaddythebitchandthebusinessisintroubleandIvenowheretogoand – ‘Woah, slow down, I missed most of that – what about Maddy?’ ‘The thing is …’ Gerry paused for dramatic effect, and Saffron smelt the alcohol on his breath.
