My hangover on Friday morning wasn’t bad enough to blot out the memory of Thursday evening, clutching my mobile and constantly checking for non-existent calls and messages.

I fed the Krays, ate some cereal and gave Elvis his breakfast. Then I wandered around the house dragging the vacuum cleaner and wondering if Sea Brew was open and what had happened after Paul saw my video. I checked the time – nine o’clock. Then the doorbell rang, and I heard a faint bark from outside before Elvis’s baritone drowned it out. I opened the door to Emma and Bertie.

“Thought I heard a Hoover,” Emma said. “We’re going down to the beach. Want to come?”

It felt like Fate.

“Give me five minutes.”

Elvis and I made it in three, and we strolled down to the promenade. The day was cloudy and cool, and there were few cars around and no one on the sand. As we crossed towards the café, my chest tightened. I squinted inside, but there was no sign of Paul.

“Customers in already,” Emma said, pointing to the window seats, “I heard it was shut yesterday.”

Elvis stopped and stared at the doorway. “No,” I told him. “We’re not going in. C’mon.”

“We could have a coffee on the way back,” Emma said, and my stomach churned at the thought. Then my inner voice scolded me for being a big cowardy custard and told me I had every right to go in, and, anyway, how else would I find out what was happening? Paul was the coward for shutting me out.

“Well,” I started to say, and then the cafe door burst open, and Steph charged out and marched up to me, arm outstretched, pointing at my face. I stepped back.

“You evil bitch.” She spat the words. “Don’t come back in here, and stay away from Paul and me!” She turned on her heel and stormed back inside.

“Wow,” Emma said. “What did you do - forget to leave a tip?”

I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t speak. Elvis pulled me towards the ramp, and I walked like an automaton, barely managing to coordinate my legs.

“Marnie?” Emma looked at me and then unclipped Elvis’s leash, and he bounded to the sand with Bertie at his heels. “Come on, this way.” She took my arm and led me down the ramp as though I was a pensioner who’d forgotten her Zimmer.

I felt numb. Tears pricked my eyelids. One thought filled my head: Sue was right.

Paul confronted Steph, she manipulated him with her version of the truth, and now they were stronger than ever, and neither of them wanted to see me again. Paul must have blamed me for the video and denied his own involvement. I’d been the biggest fool in existence. Why did I fall for him? Now everything had gone wrong.

I started to cry and then wail, and couldn’t stop. Tears coursed down my face, and huge, wracking sobs choked my breath from me. I was vaguely aware of Elvis and Bertie streaking across the sand while Emma’s voice sounded nearby, telling someone I was in bits, and please come now.

I stumbled forward, desperate to get away from the café. Emma stayed by my side, throwing me anxious looks, and probably wondering why I was staggering along a beach crying like a baby because a waitress I barely knew had been horrible to me.

And then Sue was there, taking my arm and speaking softly, and I was led up another ramp while Emma gathered the dogs together. Sue’s car was parked on the prom. “In you go.” She poured me onto the passenger seat, and Emma climbed in the back with Elvis and Bertie. Then Sue drove like a maniac back to her house.

Five minutes later, I was seated at her kitchen table with a mug of coffee and a plate of ginger biscuits in front of me. Colin poked his head around the door.

“Oh, look,” Sue said. “It’s Tiny Tim.”

Colin lurched into the room on crutches. “I’m getting the hang of these. Hey, Marnie – God, you look rough.”

Sue threw him a withering look. “Thank you, Captain Charmless.”

“I got you a present,” Colin told me. “You’ll love it, and it’ll cheer you up.”

“What present?” Sue asked. “Was it in that box you bought yesterday?”

“Wait and see.” Colin grinned, turned laboriously around and lurched out again.

Emma hovered by the table. “Maybe I should go.”

“No.” It was the first word I’d spoken since the café. “You may as well hear the whole sorry tale.”

I took a slug of coffee and a few deep breaths before describing how I’d met Paul and the budding attraction culminating in the aborted kiss. Then came the saga of Tim, and finally Steph and Mark Cooper and my amateur detective activities. “I sent Paul the video on Wednesday afternoon and haven’t heard from him since.”

“And Windy Miller’s on the warpath,” Sue said.

Emma looked confused. “That’s a character from a kid’s TV show.”

“But not nearly as cute.” Sue explained the rumour factory that was Wendy and her cronies. “Word’s probably got out by now. What happened this morning at the beach?”

Emma related the Tale of The Irate Waitress.

“She can’t do that – ban you from the café.” Sue looked at us both. “We’ll all go in tomorrow at lunchtime, and if she tries to make a scene, we’ll make an even bigger one.”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “She doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“A bit like Colin,” Sue said as her husband returned to the room, moving even more unsteadily than before with a bubble-wrapped package under one arm. Sue rose and took it from him.

“There you go.” Colin beamed at me.

“Thanks.” Mystified, I unravelled the bubble wrap, and my mouth fell open. In front of me were two glass clip frames displaying the front pages from the last two issues of the Dexter Bay Clarion. There I was with Paul’s arm around my waist and then again with Emma, Elvis and Bertie at the top of the ramp. And Mark Cooper had been responsible for both.

I looked up at Sue’s mortified face and then at Colin’s grinning one. “Thanks, Colin. I love them.”

“You’re welcome - told you she would.” Colin nodded to his wife and turned to go. “If you’re bringing coffee through, that would be great. And some biccies would be appreciated.”

Sue rolled her eyes and fetched another mug. “Sorry about that, Marnie.”

“It’s okay, really.” I looked at the pages, trying not to think about how I’d felt standing so close to Paul. “The Reverend Thorpe has second billing on this one. I’ll hang them where Elvis won’t see him.”

I re-wrapped the frames, and Sue took coffee and biscuits to her husband in the living room. Elvis and Bertie followed her out and didn’t return. When Sue came back, I’d fallen silent again. I felt drained and hollow and thought I might start crying and never stop.

“You want to go home?” Sue asked, and I nodded.

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Emma said, “Sue and I will visit the newsagents and grocers and see what we can find out. And we’ll definitely all go to the café tomorrow. Like Sue said, Steph won’t want to make a scene and draw attention to herself and Mark Cooper.”

“She might spit in your food,” Sue said. “But she won’t make a scene.”

I said goodbye to Emma and Colin, thanked him again for his original gift, and then Sue drove me home with Elvis sprawled across the back seat. When she parked outside Lilac Cottage, I sighed and said, “I can see the attraction of London right now. That or any other city.”

“I know what you mean.” Sue nodded. “The anonymity. Neighbours keeping their distance. But then you have a heart attack on your kitchen floor, and no one finds your body for three months.” She looked at Mr Simpkins’ house. “No chance of that happening here. If you didn’t show up to feed the Kray Pigeons, old Reg would phone the police, ambulance, fire brigade, girl guides, boy scouts, lifeboats and the WI.”

I smiled. “I know, but it’s just…been a bit much lately.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

Sue organised Elvis while I carried the picture frames into the living room. I leaned the parcel against the wall at the back of the sideboard and accidentally knocked Elvis’s folder off the top.

Sue picked it up and had another look inside. “Hey, his birthday’s tomorrow, and he’s three.”

We looked at Elvis, standing in the doorway. He looked at us and wagged his tail. I said, “I’ll go to Lufton Pet Shop later and buy him a present.”

“You already bought him the ball chucker.” Sue grinned. “Although that won’t be a surprise.”

“I didn’t buy that. Paul gave it to me.”

“Oh, right.” Sue looked away.

“Think I’ll lie down for a while.” I replaced the folder. “I haven’t slept well recently.”

“Good idea. Take your phone with you, and I’ll keep you posted on what we come up with. Emma’s gone to get her laptop.”

“Thanks.”

I waved goodbye to Sue and then headed upstairs, followed by Elvis. I closed my bedroom curtains, kicked off my shoes, dumped my phone on the bedside cabinet and flopped onto the quilt. I lay there, staring into space, and doubted I’d get much sleep. But, slowly and surely, exhaustion seeped through me, and I closed my eyes and drifted away.

Sometime later, I dreamt that Elvis and I were running across an expanse of beautifully manicured lawn. I called my dog, and he ignored me and began racing in circles while I spun around, trying to keep him within sight.

Then the Reverend Thorpe sprang up before me.

“Get off the bowling green,” he said. “I’m playing God and Mr Simpkins, and you’re ruining the game.”

I spun away from him, but he reappeared and began dancing. I whirled around, and Reverend Thorpe was still there doing The Hustle. I turned to my left, and Mr Simpkins stood to attention, saluted, and told me, “God wears decent socks, y’know.”

I turned to my right, and there was Kenny Rogers in a white suit, fawn cashmere socks and Jesus sandals. He opened his mouth, and Robert Plant’s voice emerged singing ‘Black Dog’.

I woke unnerved and confused, still hearing Led Zeppelin – and then realised it was my ringtone.

“Urgh.” I raised myself, scrabbled around on the cabinet for my phone, and answered the call without checking the screen. “Uh, hello?”

“Hey, Marnie, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Paul?” My head swam. “Paul? Why…?”

“I thought you might have come in this morning.”

“You what?” My head cleared. “Are you serious?”

“Look, I can’t talk right now. Can you meet me in Lufton Supermarket in half an hour?”

“Ah…” My brain struggled to compute this new information and failed to instruct my mouth. “Um…”

“Please? Sorry, I have to go now.”

“What the hell are you playing at?” I found my voice. “D’you think I’ll just drop everything and rush to meet you? Paul, are you listening? Paul?”

I was talking to dead air.

Elvis jumped onto the bed and sat beside me. “Well, that was unexpected,” I told him, feeling my spirits sinking again. “Uncle Paul probably wants to tell me to my face to leave him and his lovely girlfriend alone.” Fresh tears blinded me, and I blinked them away. “I’ve been stupid, Elvis. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I let my heart rule my head, and now I’m the laughing stock of Dexter Bay.”

Elvis considered this, head on one side.

“I barely know this man, but I got carried away with a stupid, romantic fantasy where the two of us – sorry, three of us – lived happily ever after, and life was wonderful. How ridiculous is that?”

Elvis booped me with his nose, and I wrapped my arms around him and cuddled him. “I’m so glad I’ve got you, lovely boy.” Then I sniffed, gave one last sigh, and stood. “Okay, enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. I’m going to Lufton anyway, and I need some groceries, so I’ll go to the supermarket. Keep a low profile. Stay calm. If Paul’s there, I’ll be polite and distant, cool, calm and collected, and end it there and then.”

I opened the curtains, took my bag and phone, and headed to the bathroom, groaning when I saw my face in the mirror. I set to work with my make-up bag. Foundation sorted most of the blotches, but my puffy, bloodshot eyes were beyond help. “Sunglasses,” I decided. “Cover a multitude of sins.”

Elvis and I went downstairs. I grabbed my bag, scattered treats on the kitchen floor, and legged it down the hall and out to the car. I drove to Lufton supermarket as my stomach tied itself up in knots. I’d parked the Golf and was considering getting out when Sue rang. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. I managed to sleep.” I took a breath. “I’m nipping into the supermarket en route to the pet shop. D’you need anything?”

“Can’t think offhand. Emma looked up Mark Cooper. He’s been at the Clarion for eighteen months, and before that, he was in London, working for a free paper.”

“It wasn’t in Croydon, by any chance?”

“Wow, you are an ace detective. How’d you know that?”

“Because that’s where Paul had his last business and where he met his charming partner.”

“Bet it started back then.”

“Yeah, I’d bet on it, too. Anything else on Mark Cooper?”

“Just that he’s planning to move back to London, hinting that some big news corporate has head-hunted him. More fool them. Ginger nuts.”

“I’m sorry? What?”

“Colin’s addicted to ginger nuts. Could you get me some?”

“Oh, sure.” I scanned the car park, looking for the green Fiat 500, and feeling relief mixed with disappointment when I couldn’t see it. “What are you doing now?”

“Emma, Bertie and I are heading down to the shops, and we’ll hit the café after that. Maybe Paul will talk to us.”

“Sounds good.” I cringed. Here I was, lying by omission to my best friend. Paul Felix had turned me into someone I neither recognised nor liked. Suddenly, desperate to make amends, I had a flash of inspiration. “Elvis is having a birthday party tomorrow evening at seven. Invite Colin, Emma, Ian and Bertie. B.Y.O.B.”

“We’ll bring several bottles.” I could hear Sue’s grin over the phone. “Catch you later.”

“Bye.” I took my bags, slipped on my sunglasses and left the car. I entered Lufton supermarket steeped in nervous tension, grabbed a small trolley and hauled it away from its pack, inadvertently freeing two others who made a break for it. I sprang after one of the escapees as it pinned an elderly gentleman to the newspaper stand, then stopped the second one before it kneecapped an assistant carrying an armful of toilet rolls. “I’m so sorry.”

So much for keeping a low profile.

I skulked down the bread aisle, added a loaf to my trolley, then headed to the snack section for crisps, nuts, little cheesy things, and twiglets. Dog treats were next, then milk and coffee. Thoughts of Elvis’s party drifted through my head. Could I make one of those hedgehogs with the cocktail sticks on its back? Cheese, pineapple chunks, and pickled onions. I brightened at this thought and hurried from aisle to aisle, collecting everything I needed.

I was standing at the back corner of the supermarket, trying to read the label on a bottle of Merlot, when Paul’s voice sounded close by.

“Marnie Hope. Fancy meeting you here.”

I nearly dropped the wine. “Paul Felix.” I turned to face him, and my heart flip-flopped. “As I live and breathe.”

“Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?”

“I’m trying to look cool.”

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “I mean, you do, obviously.” He studied me. “But I can’t see your eyes…and I like them.”

“So do I. I use them a lot.”

“I mean, I think they’re lovely.”

Why was he doing this to me – was the man a sadist? I stared, disconcerted, distant-and-cool Marnie dissolving rapidly into awkward-and-uncertain. I dumped the wine in my trolley and grabbed the handle, knuckles turning white.

Then, before I realised what was happening, Paul reached out, lifted my sunglasses and pushed them up to sit on my crown. “Marnie, you’ve been crying.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Has something happened?”

“Has something…? Are you kidding me?” Awkward, uncertain Marnie was shoved aside, and woman-on-the-edge took control. “I’ve had the fortnight from hell, and your bitch of a girlfriend was the final straw.”

“What’s she done?”

“Don’t give me that. You know damn well.” I yanked my sunglasses down and glared at Paul, then realised he couldn’t see me glaring and shoved them back up again. “You sent her out this morning to shoot me down.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

We locked eyes for a long moment. Paul looked stricken. His voice was soft. “Please tell me.”

I began to waiver, took a few shaky breaths, and repeated Steph’s tirade outside the café. Paul’s face hardened, and so did his voice. “She had no right, and I didn’t know she’d done that, or I would have stepped in.”

“Would you? Would you, really? You’ve ignored me since I sent you the video.”

“That’s why I wanted to meet you here, away from the gossips of Dexter Bay. Who’s that woman with the Deirdre Barlow glasses?”

“Windy Miller. Wendy.”

Paul grinned, then became serious again. “I didn’t get a chance to see the video until we’d closed the café and gone upstairs. I confronted Steph, and her first point of attack was to accuse us.”

“Us?”

“This Wendy woman told Steph she’s seen us together, we must be having an affair, and Steph said this was why she’d been forced to look for affection elsewhere.”

“Bollocks.”

“I said as much. I’m not a good liar, Marnie, and I tend to stick to the truth. Don’t ever ask me if your bum looks big in anything.” I smiled, despite myself, and he carried on. “I didn’t want to land you in it, but it was the only way out I could see. I told Steph I’d met with you because you’re a private detective, and I asked you to follow her.”

“Did that shut her up?”

“Briefly. Then Steph told me she’s pregnant.”