Stephanie wept. The transport police officers had just left her, having gained little information, and she was now by herself in the lobby of the Grosvenor. She became conscious of the fact that she was in full view of a concierge and the receptionist, and so grabbed at a magazine from the glass table in front of her, and continued weeping behind Vogue.

     ‘Any minute now Peter will find me here,’ she thought, adding that it was the last thing that she needed. She hoped he had given up waiting, and had gone back to Camberwell, or be at the Fox On The Hill for a few hours. His mood was better whilst drunk.

     She turned a page casually; realising only then why she had done what she did to Peter. Back then, he was so much like her ex-boyfriend that it hurt.

Peter kicked the door down, and grabbed the man inside by his collar. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my wife’s suitcase?!’ he enquired, pushing the man up against the cubicle wall. A cleaner shouted for him to stop, but he ignored him.

     ‘I need the money,’ the man said breathlessly, trying to regain power of his shabby shirt.

     ‘Then go to a bank!’ Peter screamed.

     The man smiled weakly. ‘If only it was that easy.’

     Peter recognised such a predicament from his childhood, when he and Simon had left home to become “independent bachelors”. He also saw the sadness in his eyes. He had seen the same sadness in Stephanie on Friday night.

     ‘What did I do to make her look that way?’ he thought. He had never hit her, never abused her in any way. But he had not shown that he truly loved her in quite some time, and for a woman who had just fallen pregnant, that was just as dangerous.

     He dropped the man, whose arm fell in the bowl as he slumped on the toilet, whilst all around him lay Stephanie’s belongings.

     Peter looked at the ring in his hand, and understood why she had taken it off just three days before.