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my arm around her shoulders. She instantly put her head on my shoulder. It really shouldn't've been this easy, but getting every penny from Cara was going to be like taking sweets from a toddler. On our way out of the cinema, Cara kept going on about Daley Mercer, the latest Cross heartthrob.
    'I don't think I've seen a single film of his that I haven't liked,' Cara sighed. 'And he's so gorgeous, don't you think?'
    'He doesn't do much for me,' I told her honestly.
    She laughed. 'I'd be disappointed if he did!'
    'He's got another film coming out soon, hasn't he?'
    'Destruction,' Cara informed me. 'It's out next week. I can't wait to see it.'
    'What's it about?'
    'It's a historical ghost story. Daley's character is a wealthy landowner in the eighteenth century who has a secret which will ruin him if it's revealed. And then this rich woman played by Dessi Cherada comes to his mansion to . . .'
    I switched off at that point. It sounded even worse than the neck-high drivel we'd just waded through. A few minutes passed before Cara finished telling me the plot.
    'Apparently the tickets are selling like patties, so I'll have to wait a while before I see that one,' she sighed.
    Personally, I'd rather have had my toenails extracted than watch that dagger rubbish. Yet another film where there wouldn't be a single nought in sight – except possibly as slaves. I hated historical films in particular for that reason. Even in so-called contemporary films, noughts were few and far between.
    The meal we had afterwards was curried lamb and rice flavoured with coconut. She wanted to pay, but I insisted. In the end we decided to split the bill in half. I knew when I took her home that she wanted to see me again. She didn't invite me in but I could tell that she was debating with herself whether or not she should. I made up her mind for her by bidding her goodnight.
    'Maybe we can meet up again – for another drink or something?' said Careful Cara.
    'I'd like that,' I told her.
    We stood in silence outside her medium-sized house, with its medium-sized front garden and the medium-sized silver or grey car in the driveway – it was hard to tell in the street-lit night.
    'I'll give you my phone number,' said Cara, caving in.
    'I'd like that too,' I smiled. Success! She was giving me her phone number. I didn't have to ask for it. The running in this relationship had to be done by her if I was to get a single penny out of her. I watched her dig into her jacket pockets, taking out a pen from one and a napkin from the other. She quickly wrote down her name and number, never once looking at me. I could feel her radiating embarrassment. She handed it to me, then almost ran for her front door.
    'Cara?' I called after her.
    She slowed, then stopped. Turning slowly she looked directly at me for the first time since we'd arrived at her house.
    'I'll see you soon,' I said.
    She nodded and I'm sure I saw hope and something more on her face. I watched her go into her house before I turned and walked back the way I'd come. I was aware of a face at the window in the next house along. Pretending that I didn't know I was being watched, I carried on walking at an unhurried pace, my face slightly averted from the voyeur's gaze. I still had to be careful. I couldn't help wondering why Cara didn't seem the least bit self-conscious about being seen with me. I mean, even when paying for the cinema tickets, I'd been aware of the looks we were getting. But I'd looked at Cara, and she'd smiled at me like, at that precise moment, I was the only thing that mattered. So I swallowed my embarrassment and smiled back because Cash Cow Cara was going to help me get back on top. I just had to play my cards right. But I wasn't worried.
    Playing cards has always been one of my favourite pastimes.
    And as Jude's law number six says: Do unto others as they would do unto you – only do it first.

twelve. Sephy

    Darling Callie,
    The doctors tell me that you're holding your own. They try