Thrusting the mug at her, as I say it I truly believe it.
‘What?’ I cry.
A young mum with a baby in a pushchair swerves sharply to avoid me, the crazed-looking redhead. ‘What?’ I repeat, moving off the path to sit down on the crisp green grass. ‘And people believe him?’
I’ve escaped to the leafy surroundings of Hyde Park. After two days in the flat getting my paperwork in order and waiting for an invite to a disciplinary interview, the walls have started closing in on me. I’m worried about running into someone from work, in case they ask me questions, or worse, avoid me out of awkwardness, but I can’t take it any more. Besides, if I’m as innocent as I keep telling myself, hiding away will only make people think I have a reason to be ashamed. I can’t let anyone doubt me.
‘People who know you don’t,’ Kitty answers gruffly in my ear.
‘He has no right to say anything to anyone. This is all confidential. And what about people who don’t know me?’
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