Page 68 of All Summer Long

‘Quite. Coming up after the break, all the inside gossip from the cobbles ofCoronation Street. We’ll be right back.’

They cut to adverts, and Alice switched the TV off and curled up on the sofa in silence. As far as she was concerned, real life wasn’t just ink seeping in around the edges, it was crashing in over them like a tidal wave, and she was drowning in it.

He came home and found her at the kitchen table.

‘I guess you saw what happened.’

‘Did Marsh set it up?’

Robinson sat down beside her. ‘He says not. But yeah, I reckon he did.’

She put her hand on his thigh, wincing when she noticed Brad’s blood on Robinson’s shirt. ‘You shouldn’t have hit him.’

‘I should have hit him harder.’

‘Will it damage your reputation?’

He shrugged. ‘Marsh thinks not. No publicity is bad publicity, that old chestnut.’

‘I shouldn’t think Brad’s manager is looking at it that way right now,’ Alice said, a small smile hovering despite everything. She kissed his cheek.

‘Thank you for protecting my honour, even if he was technically correct.’

‘What was that phrase he used? Boning?’ Robinson said, frowning.

‘As in having sex with,’ Alice said, grimacing.

Robinson looked sideways at her and then started to laugh under his breath, and then pulled her into his lap.

‘As in “let’s take our clothes off and bone”?’ he asked, sliding his hands inside her t-shirt.

‘Not sure that makes literal sense,’ she said, settling into him. ‘At least he didn’t say fucking. Lorraine really wouldn’t have liked that.’

‘I like how you sound when you say it,’ he said, pulling her t-shirt off and lifting her up onto the kitchen table in front of him as he stood up.

‘I like how it feels when we do it,’ she breathed, gasping as he pushed her backwards, dragged her hips to the edge of the table and settled himself between her thighs. And then, as had become their way, they blocked out everyone and everything else and lost themselves in each other.

She made them omelettes at midnight and he opened the beers. They sat close at the kitchen table and spoke quietly, then went back to bed and slept tumbled together, wrapped up in the sheets and each other until someone unceremoniously woke them the next morning by banging on the door knocker and shouting through the letterbox.

‘Open the damn door, Robinson Duff. I know you’re in there and I’m not going anywhere until you open this door!’

Robinson dragged the pillow over his head and groaned, and Alice pulled it back off again and looked at him, still half asleep.

‘Who is it?’

Robinson sat up and rubbed his hands over his face.

‘I hate to say it, Goldilocks, but it sounds very much like my ex-wife.’

Robinson threw his clothes on and jogged downstairs pulling his t-shirt down his chest, craning his neck to look through the small, bevelled hall window to get the full picture before he opened the door.

‘Fuck,’ he said, banging the back of his head lightly against the wall as he cursed. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’

Opening the door had just become even more of an issue, because it wasn’t just Lena out there on the driveway. From what he could tell, the entire British press had set up camp on his doorstep as well.

Grabbing his mobile from the hall table, he called Marsh on speed dial. His manager answered after a couple of rings.

‘What the fuck did you do?’ Robinson said, dispensing with any greeting.

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