Free Shameless by Paul Burston Page A

had a bit of a cold. Then again, it was late June. Allergies, then. He could claim that he had hay fever and that his doctor had prescribed antihistamine tablets and that they had made him speedy.
    Just then Rob cut in. Martin was pleased to see that he was still smiling, though not quite as broadly as before. “Listen, Martin,” Rob said. “You seem like a nice guy, but I think I should probably be going now. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again some time, when you’re feeling less . . . preoccupied.” He stood up and hesitated for a moment. “It really was nice meeting you,” he said finally. “And your friend of course.”
    “Don’t go just yet,” Martin said, trying hard not to sound desperate and failing miserably. “I’ve been talking too much. I know. I’m sorry. I’m not normally like this, really. It must be the drink. I’ve hardly eaten anything all day, and champagne always goes straight to my head. It’s still early. We could go and get something to eat, some pasta or something. I know a few places near here, all fairly cheap. I’m sure we could find a table. We could order some food, and you could tell me about yourself.”
    Rob frowned slightly and shook his head. “Maybe some other time,” he said, and flashed a half smile. “Bye.”
    Martin watched him leave. Then he rushed into the toilet, tore off some toilet paper, and blew his nose until it bled.
    Caroline was heading home in a taxi when her cell rang. It was Graham. “Hi, baby,” he said. “What’s up?”
    Caroline felt her heart leap at the sound of his voice, but she was determined to play it cool. “I’m fine,” she said briskly. “Just on my way to a party as a matter of fact.”
    “Really? Whose party?”
    “Nobody you know. Just one of the girls from work.”
    “That’s a pity. I was hoping I could see you tonight.”
    Caroline, still giddy from all the champagne, felt her resolve melting. “Well, you’ve left it a bit late, Graham,” she said, secretly wishing she had hung on to that remaining half gram of coke. “People are expecting me.”
    “Well, how about if we go together? You could drop by on your way and pick me up. Where is this party anyway?”
    Caroline racked her brains for a suitable location. It had to be close enough to Graham’s flat in Belsize Park to make it seem as though she wouldn’t be putting herself out too much, but not so close as to arouse suspicion. “Finchley Road,” she said eventually. “Though to be honest, I’m not sure if it’ll be much good.”
    “Well, why don’t you stop by anyway?” Graham said gently. “We can have a drink and then see how we feel. I’ve really missed you, y’know. And I know it was stupid of me storming off like that the other day. Say you’ll come over, and at least give me a chance to try and make it up to you.”
    He could be very persuasive, there was no denying that. And it did sound as though he was genuinely sorry about the way he had acted before. Caroline knew that she was caving in, but she put up one last valiant struggle. “Okay,” she said. “But this doesn’t mean that I’ve forgiven you. You’ve still got a lot of making up to do.”
    Twenty minutes later the taxi pulled up outside the three-story Edwardian house where Graham had lived for the past year, and where Caroline was forced to admit that she had spent some of the happiest times of her life. She paid the driver, checked her makeup, and walked up to the front door. She pressed the buzzer to the basement flat and waited for Graham to answer. There was a short pause before she was buzzed in. She walked down the hallway to Graham’s door and knocked gently. “Just a minute,” Graham’s voice shouted. Then the door swung open.
    Caroline almost keeled over. Graham was standing in the doorway, completely naked except for the cowboy hat tilted on the back of his head, and the cigar dangling from his mouth. In one hand, he held a bottle of champagne. In the other,