He looked down on me, his face dark with some elemental force I could not recognize. Even his rage when he had attacked Aidan had not shown itself like this; this was a mask of triumph and loathing, like a man would turn on his defeated opponent after a bloody battle.

“Get up and get dressed,” he commanded. “I don’t care where you go, just get out.”

“David, I beg you, tell me … what have I done? Have I displeased you?” A sob came into my throat and almost choked me, but I blurted the question I had to ask. “Don’t you love me any more?”

These words only increased his fury. “Shut up, you stupid little fool!” he commanded. Then he seemed to soften a little and between heavy breaths said, “Go away and read your contract. If you try to breach it I will sue you.”

I was still sobbing. “But I don’t understand,” I protested weakly. “David, please tell me—”

“For Christ’s sake! Do you think I’ve taken all this trouble for my own amusement?”

“I do not know what to think.” My brain felt useless, stunned.

“Well, I haven’t.” David’s voice was shot through with misery. “I’ve done it to get rid of that bloody woman.”

The memory of Marjorie Cunningham’s cap of golden hair flashed through my head. I gasped for breath. “What woman? Do you mean Mar—”

He ignored me. “Of course, the court case will provide free publicity for the picture too, and keep those damned sharks off my back.”

“What court case?” I was wailing now. “David, please…”

“The divorce case, you fool!”

I gasped, silenced by bewilderment. I had never felt my ignorance so keenly. Whose divorce case did he mean?

“Don’t sit there gaping like a fish,” said David. “Here.” His jacket lay on a chair. He searched the pockets, his fingers trembling so much that his wallet got stuck as he tried to pull it out, and in his irritation he tore the pocket flap. He tossed a five pound note onto the bed beside me. “Now, get out of my sight, and don’t come near me again until your contract says you have to.”