***
After the London Annual Advertising Awards, Sophie subconsciously jumped in a taxi.
The car stopped outside the apartment, and the taxi driver quoted an exorbitant fare. He'd been a friendly cabbie and, without meaning to, Sophie had shared the difficulties of the past few days. Yet now she rubbed her ears, hoping she'd misheard, maybe he’d misquoted. The taxi parked in the lonely London street. The fare was all the cash she was carrying.
“You've got it right I'm afraid.” The cabbie winked, leaning forward. “You have a good night now.”
Sophie stumbled out of the car, dashed up the steps to the front door. But for some reason the key refused to fit the lock. The key Carol had given her was definitely the right one.
The tennis ball swung on her keychain. Realisation hit like a lightning bolt. Sophie was standing outside Derek’s place. She had no cash for another taxi, but despite the situation, there was no way she could ring the doorbell. She fled down the stairs and away from the flat that not so long ago had been her home.
Desperately looking for cash, Sophie turned out the contents of her Velcro wallet. Nothing. No money. That crazy offer of a hundred pounds was certainly sounding attractive now.
She swallowed. She needed to get to her new flat. The only option left was to catch the night bus. The journey would take hours.
In heels and a tiny black dress, alone and with no other solution in sight, Sophie began to walk.
At least it wasn’t raining.
Chapter 3