I sat in the staff room with my head on the table, my phone now turned off and stuffed in my pocket.
Lavinia had now gone and posted my number publicly. I had now been receiving angry calls from haters non-stop.
It was past 5 so I should go home, but I felt too exhausted to move. I heard someone coming so sat up. Great, Steve, just who I need.
"Journalists have surrounded the building," he said. "Do you need me to drive you home?"
If someone else had said that, she would have thought it was nice of them. Steve… the man that followed her like a pyscho into the car park, the man that she never trusted. The man who’s wife had supposedly killed herself yet the neighbours didn’t believe it.
"No, thanks." I gave him my best fake smile.
I'd rather face hundreds of reporters than be alon
