Henry couldn't sit still. If John was outside Marcus' house right now, and the woman, whoever it was, was there too which meant that they weren't anywhere else. Henry sat up, flattened his hands on his desk and stood up. He strode across his office, grabbing his coat. It wasn't even midday, but the office was quiet, lots of the staff were either on holiday or had gone out for lunch. Annabel wasn't at her desk, and Henry took the opportunity to search it, rifling through papers and opening drawers, but to no avail. There was no tape, no disc. He tried to stuff everything back into the drawers, but his fingers were shaking and his heart was beating so fast; he kept his head down, not wanting to meet the questioning gazes of those who remained in the office. He realised he must look like a man who had lost his mind.

"Is everything alright?" said Mrs Balfour, walking towards him.

He stood up. "Yes. Where's Annabel?"

"I imagine she's gone to grab a coffee. I haven't seen her for a while actually," she said, frowning.

Henry slammed the last drawer and stood up. If the tape wasn't here, where was it?

He grimaced at Mrs Balfour and pushed past her, not caring at the stares that would inevitably be following him as he raced down the stairs. He let himself out into the cold, the sky thick with cloud that look like it would have to burst and spew snow to the ground at any moment. Christmas lights, unlit, hung from trees up and down the square, swinging in the breeze, and somewhere Henry could hear carolers singing in the distance. He jogged to the edge of the pavement and thrust his arm in the air to hail a cab, waiting impatiently for it to draw up alongside him.

Leaning into the window, he told the driver to take him home and jumped in the back, full of such nervous energy that he could barely control himself. Each moment in the back of the taxi was almost too much to bear. He drummed his fingers on the the door and tapped his foot on the floor, staring out the window but seeing nothing. If he could just find the video then all this could stop. He could start over and begin to put everything right.

He paid the fare and let himself into the house, pushing past Arthur Wright and heading for the interconnecting door, pushing it open and skittering into the hall of the staff house. His shoes clicked as he walked over the wooden floor and down the corridor towards Annabel's room. He knocked on the door and waited, trying to calm his breathing. Just as he had expected, no one answered, and when he twisted the door handle and let himself in, no one was there.

He flicked on the light. The room was tidy, everything perfectly organised. The bedspread was neat and Annabel had decorated the room with pictures of her family and friends, stuck on the walls with blu-tac. For a split-second Henry wondered if he would have to have the walls re-painted when he got rid of her. He hoped not.

He wandered about, not wanting to disturb the room's perfection, but he knew he didn't have an unlimited amount of time. Wherever Annabel was, whether it was with Marcus or not, she could come back at any time.

He sighed and dropped to the floor to look under the bed, sweeping an outstretched arm underneath it. Nothing. He looked at his watch. He would have to speed it up if he didn't want to get caught. He stood up and started opening drawers, feeling only the slightest discomfort as Annabel's underwear hooked over his fingers as he searched each drawer.

The heating was on full blast, and soon, wrapped in his coat and scarf, Henry began to sweat. He opened the wardrobe and started pulling out the dresses and looking in the boxes of shoes that lined the bottom of the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Henry rolled his eyes and then clenched the shut. He stood up and closed the wardrobe door, revealing Annabel standing behind him, her handbag dangling from one hand at her side, the other hand reaching out, palm upwards, pointing at him. "Are you searching my stuff?" she asked.

Henry scratched at the back of his ear for want of something to do with his hands. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because enough is enough. I want the tape, Annabel. Where is it?"

"Two weeks isn't up yet," she said, placing her bag on a chair. "Tomorrow. And then you're done. I'll give it to you then, after the Christmas party."

"Why should I trust you?" he said, taking a step towards her.

"Because I'll keep my word."

"What you've done is despicable. You've ruined everything." Henry hung his head, feeling defeated and weak.

"How is that?"

"I did love her. I do love her. I loved her when I sent you to buy the scent on her scarf. And I've lost her, because of this," he said, gritting his teeth. He looked up at her before he added: "because of you. I've never hated anyone as much as you, because you caused me to lose the one woman I've ever truly loved." Annabel was silent, and Henry thought he saw a flicker of guilt or remorse on her face, but she raised her eyes to his, cold and unfeeling. "I can't do this anymore. I tried to protect her. How ironic that my attempts to save Lauren from the indignity that you threatened, resulted in my losing her entirely -"

"You're pathetic."

Henry stopped, unsure he had heard her correctly. "What?"

"You're pathetic. A mess. No wonder she's left you. I don't even know the girl, but I'd bet she deserves better that you."

"Why you -" Henry reached out a hand towards her, as though to grab her but held himself in check, a rage burning through him like a bushfire. He felt his body tremble with anger.

Annable ducked out of his way, her face clearly displaying the horror she felt that Henry should even have thought of striking her, let alone have made a move towards her. He felt his chin begin to shake with shame and fear, and he wanted more than anything to hit something. Anything. Annabel, mostly.

"If you break our agreement, the tape goes public."

"You mean you'd want me, right now, to sleep with you even though I'd rather kill you?" he asked.

Annabel laughed, one short, sharp burst. "Maybe not now. Go away. Calm down. Tomorrow, after the Christmas lunch. And then you can have your tape and go and find this woman you say you love and beg forgiveness, like the naughty little boy you are."

Henry stepped past her, turning his shoulders so he wouldn't even touch her on the way out. "I hope you're coming back to the office this afternoon. I don't recall authorising any holiday for you today. And there's work to be done."

"I'll be back. I just had to pick something up," she called as he headed back the way he had come.

*

Lauren held the plastic stick between her fingers and laid it down on the side next to the sink, with the indicator face down so she couldn't see it. She didn't want to know; pregnancy wasn't something she had planned for or wanted in any way. And what with the new job starting in the new year, she simply couldn't afford to have a child, let alone raise one single handedly.

"Are you alright?" Alexis' voice rippled with concern as she knocked on the door. "Lauren?"

Lauren sighed and grabbed the stick in one hand without looking at it. "I'm fine."

"Well?" came Gloria's voice, impatient and intimidating.

"I don't know yet."

"Why not? You've been in there for ages," said Gloria.

Alexis, obviously aware that her sister wasn't helping, said: "do you want me to come in? I'll look at it if you don't want to."

"Can you both go away please?" Lauren waited, listening to the sisters' whispers outside the door, until she heard their footsteps move away from the door. And then, with one deep breath, she opened her clenched fist and let the stick roll over her flat palm.

Still it lay upside down. She turned it over again and what she saw made her instantly want to vomit.

The test was positive. But was it right? Was it accurate? How reliable were these tests? She put the stick down again and grabbed the empty box, pulling out the instructions. She turned the crisp paper over in her hands, searching for something that might give her hope. But even as she did so she felt in her gut that it was right. Her fingers began to tremble and she could feel the perspiration of panic beading on her forehead. The bathroom began to feel very small and close, as though the air were made of tiny hands that tried to stop up her airways.

She threw the test, the box and the instruction leaflet and opened the door, just in time to see Alexis scowling at her sister and saying something that looked serious, pushing her from the room through the interconnecting door to the kitchen. Lauren leant against the doorframe on the opposite side of the room and waited for Alexis to notice her.

"So?" asked Alexis, stepping towards her.

The concern on her friend's face made Lauren want to cry, but she bit the inside of her cheek instead, hoping the pain would distract her. "It was positive."

For a few long seconds Alexis said nothing. She brushed a few strands of dark hair from her forehead. "What will you do?"

Lauren moved into the room and sat down. "Well obviously I can't have a baby. Not now. I couldn't care for it on my own. I couldn't afford it. It wouldn't be fair on the child."

"Whose is it?" asked Alexis, one hand on her hip.

"I want to take another test. Just to be sure."

"Lauren" - Alexis tilted her head and raised a disapproving eyebrow - "whose it the baby?"

Lauren shook her head, blinking, not quite believing it herself. "I don't know."

Alexis made a slight coughing noise in the back of her throat and sat down on the chair opposite Lauren's position on the sofa. The room was dull with the lights off. To Lauren, everything felt grey and outside the window the clouds were thick with unshed snow. "I don't believe that."

Lauren looked up. "Why not?"

"You aren't the type to be sleeping with multiple men at one time. Is it The Watcher's?"

"What?"

"You slept with him, didn't you? In the club?"

Lauren swallowed and sat forward, leaning her chin on her cupped palm. "Yes. Maybe."

"Do you know who he is?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, was he wearing his mask? Do you even know who the hell The Watcher actually is? Because if you do, you should tell him."

Lauren sighed. "I don't know who he is," she lied. "And I'm certainly not going to try and find out."

"So what will you do?"

"I don't see that I have much choice -"

Alexis held up her hand. "Hold up. You're thinking of getting rid of this kid?"

Lauren shrugged. "I guess so."

"Don't you think you should at least think about it a while longer? I mean, maybe there's a reason you're pregnant. Maybe this kid is going to be the next Mozart or" - she waved her hands - "Bon Jovi."

"Bon Jovi?"

"I don't know why I said him. But you know what I mean. Maybe there's a reason for it. Maybe you're supposed to go find out who The Watcher is and live happily ever after. Maybe it's destiny."

Lauren laughed. "It's not destiny. And if there's a reason for it, it's my own stupidity. I wasn't thinking -"

"So this kid was conceived in a moment of unspeakable passion, so great that you didn't even think to ask him to wear a condom. Maybe -"

"Stop it," said Lauren, disliking the way that Alexis kept pointing at her belly as though there was some sapient being within it. "Gloria?" she called.

Alexis' sister sheepishly crept back into the room, evidently having been eavesdropping on the whole conversation. "Yes?"

"I think I'm going to need to book into an abortion clinic. I assume you know about these things?"

"I have a fair idea," said Gloria, nodding.

*

On returning to his office, Henry found John waiting for him, seated behind his desk.

"That was quick," he said.

"I'm very efficient," replied John, standing up from behind Henry's desk. "Nice chair, by the way."

Henry hung up his coat and took the seat that John had recently vacated, displeased at the way the leather seat had been warmed by someone else. "So who was it?"

"The woman who left your office the other day. Lydia Tybell, said John, leaning over Henry and inserting a USB stick into his computer. Moment later, the images flashed up on the screen of Lydia getting out of her car, waiting outside the house Henry recognised as Marcus', and then Marcus himself opening the door and shaking her hand, as though they had never formally met before. Or as though their relationship had somehow changed. It looked to Henry as though Marcus were greeting a business associate.

"So that's her other basket," said Henry, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, still staring at the computer screen as John leant over him to flick through the images.

"There's more," said John, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder to prevent him from getting up. "Wait."

As the succession of rapidly shot photographs crossed the screen, Henry noticed another woman getting out of the car, her hair short and dark, large sunglasses covering her face despite the fact it was a dull day. Henry sucked in a burst of air to stop himself from swearing out loud.

Aurelia.

So, she was in on it. Lydia hadn't been lying. The two of them were petitioning Marcus for something. But what? What incentive could they offer him to get him to comply? Why would Marcus give them anything?

The final shot showed Marcus opening the door and the two women disappearing inside. "God damn it," said Henry, slamming his fist onto the desk.

"Women, eh?" said John, stepping back from the computer. "More trouble than they're worth."

Henry pushed his chair from the desk and threw his head back, letting out a groan. "God, I just don't know what to do. Literally from all sides -"

"What about the other girl? Annabel? You must have your tape by now."

Henry stood up, running on hand through his hair to get it off his forehead, and slipping the other into his pocket. He turned from John and stepped towards the window, looking out onto the square. Snow had finally begun to fall, great white flakes as big as balls of cotton wool. "Tomorrow."

"And do you think she'll keep her word?"

"I don't know," said Henry, watching the tiny figures run through the blizzard that had begun. It might, thought Henry, actually settle. It was cold enough. "But if she doesn't, I swear I'll kill her."

John moved to the window and Henry felt the huge man's presence just behind him. "You shouldn't have to do that yourself," he said, putting a large hand on Henry's shoulder. The weight of it was so heavy that Henry felt that if he had been standing on soft earth, the pressure of it would have pushed him six feet under.

*

Lauren looked out the window of the Brixton flat, watching the snow fall on the street below. It was beginning to get dark and the streetlights were already beaming their soft orange glow. If it kept snowing like this, the traffic would be awful when Tony came to take her home on Wednesday night.

She leant her forehead against the cool glass, aware that it was steaming up around the areas her skin made contact. She had taken two more tests that day, both positive. There was no doubt about it; she was carrying Henry's child. She ran a hand over her stomach, wondering if the child realised it existed yet. Probably not. It was surely nothing more than a bundle of cells. She felt a disconcerting wave of emotion, and realised that she still loved him. Loved and hated him. Could she get rid of the baby without telling him? She didn't want to go back to Henry. He had slept with someone else. He had shown her no respect, despite professing his love. She could never understand a man like that, and she didn't want to be bound to him forever.

But even as she tried to rationalise the situation, she felt her eyes welling up and the tears that rose and fell from her lashes blurred her vision of the street outside. She didn't brush them away, feeling that in some way they were necessary: a purging of her own human weakness. The same weakness that had made her fall for a man who didn't really care about her. Who could probably never really love someone. Henry was unusual. Unique. And completely messed up.

And yet she knew she still cared about him. It was only time that would drive that from her system. She resented him for making her feel that way about him, tricking her into it only to betray her in the worst way possible. Perhaps, if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't been sleeping with his PA, then everything would be different now. Perhaps she would be thinking about letting the child live...

But she had to think of herself. Her future. Her career. How could she surrender all that to the life of an unwanted baby?

"Do you want a cup of tea?" asked Alexis, her voice distant.

Lauren prised her face from the window, aware that she probably had a read mark on her forehead, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Yes please."

"A good cuppa fixes everything," said Alexis, in a tone that suggested she knew it couldn't fix this.

Lauren followed her through to the kitchen, slopping across the room in her tracksuit and oversized jumper. "Thank you," she said.

Alexis switched on the kettle and watched it, waiting for the water to boil. "For what?"

"For letting me stay. For" - she paused and licked her lips - "being kind."

"Oh don't be silly. Did Gloria help you?"

"I've booked an appointment. Between Christmas and New Year."

"And you're sure? It's an unfortunate time of year to be deciding something like this, especially alone."

"I'm sure. I'll come back to London after Christmas, go to the appointment, have the procedure, and that'll be that. Problem solved." Lauren tightened her jaw, hoping that her act was convincing. She didn't want Alexis to suspect there was any doubt in her mind whatsoever, because, above all things, she didn't want anyone to try and talk her out of it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to try and find out who The Watcher is? I'm working tonight. He might be there."

The idea of Alexis confronting Henry in the club was unbearable. "No. Please don't say anything. He's just a stranger. I don't want him to know. Promise me?" Alexis pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows as she poured the boiling water into two cups. "Promise me?" repeated Lauren.

"Fine." She added milk to the tea and slid Lauren's mug towards her. "But I want you to know that I don't agree with you. He has a right to know."

"It's my body. My decision."

Alexis shook her head, but said nothing.

*

Henry took himself to Claridges and dined alone that night. He drank nothing but sparkling water, and ate very little of what was put down to him. He needed to be clear in the head; he didn't want anything to put him off.

He sat back in his chair and waited for someone to remove his plate, and then he ordered coffee. A double espresso. It was late, but he had a feeling it could be a long night.

Lauren was leaving London tomorrow. Was he going to have a chance to go and see her? Could he stop her going? Perhaps some great romantic gesture, like turning up in Brixton with Andrew, filling the car with roses and driving her to Marbedon for Christmas. But he knew it was foolish. She wouldn't come. She probably wouldn't even want to see him. He should give her time to calm down.