Elvis and I had a leisurely breakfast, and then I cleaned my beach treasures and arranged them along the kitchen windowsill, watched with great interest by the Krays. I sneaked out and fed them, then returned and redistributed Tim’s flowers to the living room and hall, leaving the latest bouquet on the table.

Then I wondered how I would proceed that afternoon when following Steph. “This is for Paul,” I told Elvis. “You like Uncle Paul, don’t you?”

Elvis considered this and then yawned and scratched his ear.

“Well, anyway, it has to be good. I have to be Marnie Hope: Ace Detective.” I had a sudden idea. “Ooh, I know.”

Elvis followed me upstairs and watched me rummage through the bags of Jeff’s clothes until I found an old baseball cap. I tried it on, adjusted the strap and pulled my long, unruly brown hair into a ponytail. “There we go. I could be anybody.” I tugged the skip down to my eyebrows. “I could wear a false moustache….”

I spent the next few hours collecting my own personal set of hats, scarves, hair clips, scrunchies, and a blonde wig I’d found in a charity shop. I put everything in an old flight bag and told Elvis it was my ace detective disguise kit. He yawned again.

“Time for caffeine.”

Back downstairs, I made coffee and then panicked and checked my mobile, deciding the battery needed to be fully charged for that afternoon’s surveillance. I plugged the phone in and relaxed again. Then it rang, and I picked it up, saw an incoming video call from my mother, and had another panic attack.

“Calm down,” I muttered as I took several deep breaths. “It’ll be fine.” I steeled myself and accepted the call.

The screen cleared, and there were my parents, sitting side by side at their Italian marble breakfast bar, looking glamorous and sophisticated and strangely alien. My mother’s chestnut hair was sleek and bobbed, and my father looked like a TV anchorman, all gleaming teeth and perfect side-parting.

“Hi,” I said and gave a small wave. “How are you?”

“Your gran called me.” This was my mother: straight to the point, no dithering or tedious small talk. It might have got her far in business, but it made casual conversation awkward, to say the least. “She said Jeff has left you. Is this true?”

“Yes, he’s gone.” I made this sound like the best thing ever. “He left ten days ago.”

“Is this because you can’t have children?” At some point, my father checked into hospital for a Tact and Subtlety By-Pass. The operation was a great success.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” I said through gritted teeth. “Although to use one of your American phrases, it’s a moot point, because it seems Jeff had a vasectomy before we met and forget to mention it.”

There was a moment’s silence, and my parents exchanged a startled look before my father spoke again. “That’s lying by default. You could sue him for stress and inflicting emotional damage, making you feel worthless and useless as a woman. With all your low self-esteem, you could claim millions.”

My mother turned to him, and I felt the chill from four thousand miles away. “Litigation can be very damaging to all parties. Not just the immediate claimants. All parties. D’you hear what I’m saying?”

I heard it loud and clear. Word could filter back from a nasty divorce scandal and connect to them. High-flying business associates might shun the company, and wealthy clients distance themselves. All that Italian marble up the Swanee.

My father cottoned on. “Of course, you don’t want to be branded a scarlet woman, do you? Because that’s what Jeff will do.” He nodded. “It’s what I’d do.”

“Get a good lawyer,” my mother said. “I doubt Jeff’s got any money, but take him for anything he has. Quietly.”

“Sue his bit on the side.” My father was off again, prompting more cold looks from my mother. “She’s younger and bound to have more money than you. Sue her for psychological damage: highlighting your sense of being a bad wife, unable to hold onto a husband, damaging your ego. You could claim thousan….” He met my mother’s gaze and coughed. “I mean, no, do it on the quiet. Take what you can and get out. Figuratively, that is. Stay and fight over the house.”

“Quietly.” My mother smiled, and it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Quietly.” My father nodded.

“Well, we have to go.” My mother smoothed down her perfect hair. “We’re breakfasting with clients at the beach.”

I smiled, we said goodbye, and the screen turned blank. I set my mobile down and then slumped at the table, trying to rediscover my earlier optimism and energy for the day ahead.

My phone rang again. I shrank away and then noticed Sue’s name on the screen. “Thank God it’s you,” I said as I answered. “I’ve just had the parents on video.”

“Oh, God, what did they want?”

“Gran told them about Jeff. They were worried.”

“Worried how it might affect their business?”

“Were you listening in?” I began to feel better.

“I could write the script, Marnie. You can relax now, though. Their parenting duty is over for another while, so you’re safe again.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“You’re right, I know.” I sighed in relief. “How are things with you?”

“Ian’s come in to watch a film with Colin. Fancy pizza for lunch?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll be down in ten.”

I busied myself heating the oven, organising plates and cutlery, and refilling the coffee pot and then Sue arrived and entered the kitchen accompanied by Elvis, his nose inches from the box she carried.

“Dexter Bay’s finest cheese and tomato.” She slung the pizza in the oven and then turned to me. “I have some news.”

“Oh?” I brought out coffee cups and set them on the table. “Good news?”

“Not entirely. In fact, no, not at all.” Sue grimaced. “Windy Miller saw you and Paul in your car yesterday.”

“Oh, hell, who told you? Was it her?”

“Met her on the way here. She couldn’t wait to spill the beans.”

“The whole of Dexter Bay will know.” A chill ran down my spine as I thought back to my bravado the previous afternoon. “I should have been more careful, but I was upset, and I didn’t think.”

“It’s not your fault, Marnie. You know it’s the price for living in a small place where everyone knows your business before you do.”

“If by ‘everyone’ you mean Windy Miller and Reg Simpkins, then, yes, you’re right.” I slumped at the table again. “They should work at the Clarion.”

“Look, there’s nothing you can do about her.” Sue sat down opposite me. “If you keep your distance like we agreed, it’ll all blow over. You’ve gone red. Why have you gone red?”

“I met Paul on the beach this morning. By accident.”

“You were accidentally out there at dawn?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I tried to ignore Paul…no, I didn’t; that’s a lie. I hoped I’d see him.”

“Oh, God. And…?”

“And he asked me to follow Steph again today and film her this time.”

A long silence followed. I looked at the table as if I’d never seen it before. Elvis sat in front of the oven, staring at the pizza and whining. The Krays stood in a row out on the windowsill and peered at us, and I wondered if they thought of my kitchen as their personal cinema screen. If so, today’s film would be Marnie The Idiot Part II.

“You do realise how weird and salacious that sounds, don’t you?”

“That’s a big word for a Wednesday.”

“You were going to take a step back. How is this stepping back? Paul shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

“I want to do it. I’m a detective, remember?”

“Oh, and that’s the only reason, is it? Is he paying you?”

“Would that be better or worse?”

“Oh, God, I don’t know. Can it get any worse?” Sue put her head in her hands. “Marnie, I’m trying to help you. I really am. Stay away from Paul and let him sort it out.”

“I can’t. I – I promised I’d do it, so I will. Paul said sorry for how he acted yesterday, and he gave me his number.”

“So you can send him his girlfriend’s sex tape.” Sue’s head slumped lower. “Marnie, when will you learn? You just…dive in.”

“Yeah, I know. You can put that on my tombstone.”

“What makes you think I’ll outlive you?”

“Well, you don’t dive in much, do you? You don’t take risks.” Sue raised her head and looked at me, and I winced. “Sorry - I didn’t mean that to sound so…er….”

“Bitchy?”

“Yeah, well, sorry.” I rose and poured the coffee. Elvis let out a delighted yelp. “My canine kitchen timer’s sounded. The pizza must be ready.”

Sue watched as I sliced our lunch and served it. “You’re right, I suppose,” she said. “I’ve played it pretty safe all my life, but I’m happy. You’re braver than me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I couldn’t do what you’ve done, y’know. And sometimes, I need you to rein me in a bit.”

“As long as you don’t mind the whole place talking about you.”

“The whole place has been talking about me since Jeff – feeling sorry for me and wondering what’ll happen next. If I’m going to be the subject of Windy’s gossip, I’d rather be talked about as a scarlet woman than a useless wife with low self-esteem.” I glanced at Sue. “I’m paraphrasing my father.”

“He should sue that charm school.”

We ate pizza in a state of uneasy truce. Then Sue cleared up, Elvis crunched kibble, and I made more coffee. Sue rummaged in her bag. “I brought Colin’s tablet, so let’s go and google your man Tim.”

“Okay.” I accepted the distraction, unplugged my charged mobile, and we trooped through to the living room with our coffee and sat down on the settee. Elvis squashed up beside Sue as she typed Tim’s name in the search bar.

“He doesn’t have a website, but this is his agent’s.” She tapped the screen. “Tim’s got his own page.”

We stared at a series of photographs and video clips. “Here he is on stage last year.” Sue opened a clip, and we saw Tim in a sharp suit and a blonde actress in a cocktail dress. They walked across a stage together, and Tim stopped, grabbed her by the arm and began speaking. Sue read the blurb below the video. “On stage in Wolverhampton. Something called The Last Love. Sounds a bit pretentious. A doomed affair set against a backdrop of –”

“Whoa. Back up, play that again.” I pointed at the screen.

“Huh?” Sue looked at me, stopped the video, and dragged the cursor back along the timeline. “Where from?”

“That’ll do. Listen to the conversation.”

Sue stared, puzzled, while we heard Tim telling the woman she wasn’t the type of girl he usually fell for, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and he was behaving like a madman.

I reached over, jabbed the screen and left Tim frozen with one hand up in the air. “That’s what he said to me on Sunday when I told him to sling his hook.” I shook my head. “Unbelievable. He was quoting this play!”

“Well, he is an actor.” Sue made a face. “Maybe he’s always acting. You’d never know, would you?” She grinned at me. “He is rather good, though. And very handsome.”

“He phoned last night to tell me he got the film role, and he asked if I was okay because I sounded a bit down. He can be sensitive like that, and, yes, he is attractive. And funny. And good company…but I always end up irritated and wishing he’d disappear.” Something occurred to me. “I find the idea of Tim much better than the reality.”

And the opposite was true of Paul.

“Anyway,” I said, sitting back and sipping coffee, “He’s suddenly gone from all that dramatic, lovey-dovey stuff to us being friends. My poor ego is dented.” I sighed theatrically. “I’ll never get over the rejection.”

Sue gave a loud snort, and Elvis dived off the settee. “Oh, you poor thing, having two gorgeous men complicating your life. I’ll think about you when I’m cooking Colin’s fish fingers tonight.”

“You wouldn’t swap Colin for Tim, would you?”

“Not permanently…maybe for half an hour?”

I started to reply, and then my phone beeped a text alert. I picked it up, saw Paul’s name, and my heart skipped a beat. Then I opened the message:

Steph going out at 2pm x

Sue looked at me. “You’ve gone red again.”

“He put a kiss.” I tried to smother the enormous grin I could feel spreading across my face. “Er, it’s Paul.”

“I guessed.” Sue’s tone was dry. “What does he want?”

“She’s leaving at two.” I looked at Sue. “Would you stay here with Elvis while I’m gone?”

She sighed. “I must be soft in the head. Okay, I’ll stay because I like Elvis.”

“I’m going to get ready.” I glanced at the clock and saw I had fifteen minutes. “Make yourself more coffee or anything you want.” I dived out of the room and ran upstairs before Sue tried to put me off again.

I returned wearing the baseball hat and with my hair in a ponytail. Sue was standing in the hall with my dog, and she nodded at my head. “Nice disguise. You want me to draw a moustache with a felt tip pen?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Elvis, be a good boy for Auntie Sue. I’ll be as quick as I can.” I nipped out of the front door and jogged to the car without looking back.