The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

The River Bursts its Banks

Animals filmed in the wilderness did this, a stiffening as they sensed danger or intrigue, their noses raised up and sniffing the air, as Katrina did now. She felt Daisy sway towards her, the two of them concentrating hard on what Justin was saying.

As Daisy had done earlier, Katrina pushed her half-empty glass towards Jordan, seeing as the champagne seemed to loosen his tongue. She lit up a cigarette and muttered something about the Fisher King bringing more than fish back from its little trips, and Justin smiled.

"These little places, eh? No-one looks at you too closely there, do they?"

"It shouldn't have been where it was the night it went down," she said. "Dangerous waters."

"Martin's always felt bad about that, but the crew knew the risks."

Daisy had gripped her hand, underneath the table. She held it hard, back, desperately trying to think up what to say next, to lull the enemy stroke weakest link stroke idiot into a false sense of security. You're with friends here, mate. Keep talking.

"I...I suppose they did," was all she could come up with. Luckily, Jordan took that to mean she knew more than she did.

"You know, Martin," he said. "He gets the contacts. Mick was useful to him. He helped set up the Fisher King smuggling thing, but he kinda stopped after a while, after the boat went down. I think he had a mate on the boat."

Jordan continued to drone on, speculating about Mick being Martin and Jordan's new access to A-list folks and their need for Class A's, but Katrina had zoned out. By the look on Daisy's face, she had too.

Mick. He had arranged for the Fisher King to make a diversion. Instead of staying in safe waters, it had wandered off course in pursuit of drugs. When the storm came in early, it had been in dangerous waters anyway. And the boat had sunk, taking down all six of its crew, including George McCaskill, aka Dod. Aka their friend and Katrina's on/off boyfriend, if that wasn't putting it too strongly.

And Mick had never said a thing.

Katrina sniffed. Some river deep within had burst its banks, and tears joined snot running down her face. Something finally alerted Jordan, who stopped talking and stared at her.

Katrina wondered if she might throw up. Why had she allowed this man to dominate her mind and heart for so long. What was it they said, the scales dropped from your eyes? Why scales? It seemed to her more like a blindfold that had been wrenched off. There he was in front of her, a spotlight shining over him.

I see your black and rotten heart.

She'd been someone who always prided herself on her lack of sentiment and foolishness. Daisy was the one who swooned. She and her mother Debbie loved those daft films, Pretty Woman and Four Weddings and a Funeral, sniffing away together on the sofa and wailing, "How romantic!", while Katrina sneered at them, pointing out that Hugh Grant would have been much better off with Kristin Scott Thomas's character.

But deep inside her, she'd held romantic, sentimental foolish ideas about Mick. The evidence to the contrary had always been there. She'd allowed herself to believe his promiscuity made him attractive. The makings of a man, right? Masculinity scatters its seeds to the winds.

And I'll be the one who changes you.

Yes, she really had imagined that would happen; that it was happening now. Mick had turned to her and seen the shining light in front of him. He'd hang up his shagging shoes and they would live happily ever after.

Katrina Burnett, creator of fairy tales. Who knew?

The hand that held her cigarette shook, and it took her several tries to get it into her mouth. She held the smoke in for several seconds and blew it out slowly. A couple more inhalations, and the nausea and shaking had stopped.

What was this new feeling? Was it relief? She prodded it carefully.

"Let's leave," Daisy whispered, her hand still gripping Katrina's. "We'll get a taxi home."

She stood up, half pulling Katrina to her feet.

Mick was back, eyes still glittering this time but now different, alert and aware. Martin stood behind him, his presence glowering and all-controlling.

"Ladies! Leaving already? Or are you looking for the 'proper' party, which is something I can help you with?"

He seemed oblivious to Katrina's tears, though she ducked her face anyway, pushing past him and Mick. Then, she changed her mind and marched back, planting herself in front of Mick. He shrank in front of her, and she curled her hand into a fist and punched him as hard as she could. In the balls.

"You fucking bitch!" No-one could hear. The words were only hissed out as he doubled up, face contorted in agony.

Plenty of people saw though, including Dee who hurried towards them, her face creasing in alarm. Katrina could probably kiss the chances of any further TV work with Dee's company goodbye.

Ah well.

"