In every case the journalists she’d dealt with had been, if not respectful, at least perfectly friendly and interested. She was soft news. The human-interest angle. Something a bit different for the women readers. A bit of fun. Nobody was really too fussed about what she had to say. They didn’t really believe in hypnosis, but they didn’t care too much either way.

But as soon as she spoke to Lisa Hamilton, she knew that this was going to be a different sort of interview than anything she’d done before. Her manner didn’t even warm when Ellen, in a blatant plea for sympathy, had mentioned that she was pregnant and suffering terrible morning sickness and would therefore prefer not to meet too early in the morning. Lisa was clearly not the sort of person who could fake the charm in order to get Ellen to reveal more. If she was going to write an article trashing Ellen, she had to hate her.

Ellen had no experience being hated.

It wasn’t helping her nausea.

“I remember Colleen saying that they didn’t mind if they got a bad product review because the only part that stuck in people’s minds was the name of the product.” Patrick pulled back the quilt and climbed in next to her.

Colleen had been a marketing assistant. Ellen wondered if she just imagined that Patrick’s face automatically softened whenever he mentioned Colleen’s name, in the same way that her father’s face had softened when he mentioned his real children.

And so what if it did?

(And just what did she mean by “real children”? How sulky and silly and obvious of her. She was behaving as if her father had deserted her. Was that what she subconsciously thought? She thought her subconscious was more mature than that.)

“I’m not a product,” said Ellen, although the marketing course she’d taken had encouraged her to think of herself as a “brand.”

“You know what I mean,” said Patrick. “I just don’t want you getting yourself worked up about this when it probably means nothing. It might not even be related to Ian I’ve-got-a-big-dick Roman.”

“He owns that paper,” said Ellen. “I looked it up on the Internet. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Have you called his wife?” said Patrick. “She’s the one who needs to put a stop to all this.”

“I’ve left two messages,” said Ellen. “I don’t think she could help now anyway. He’s got me in his sights.”

She paused. “Did I just say, ‘He’s got me in his sights’? I can’t believe I said that.”

Patrick didn’t answer. He was lying back on his pillow looking at his BlackBerry. He was addicted to it. It made Ellen laugh when he complained about Jack spending too much time on his Nintendo.

“Jesus,” said Patrick. He sat up.

“What?” said Ellen, thinking, Saskia.

“The bastard wants to take me to court.”

“What bastard?”

Patrick was still looking incredulously at the tiny screen. “That client who is refusing to pay his bill.” He tapped furiously with his thumbs. “I got my solicitor to send over a Letter of Demand today. And now this guy is not only refusing to pay, but he reckons he’s going to sue us because we took too long to complete the work. What a joke.”

“It’s probably just a, what do you call it, a countermove,” said Ellen.

“God almighty! The injustice of it.” Patrick’s whole body had become almost rigid with rage. “He wanted this job fast-tracked. We worked overtime for him. I missed Jack’s soccer game because of this prick, and then he has the audacity to say we took too long?”

“Your solicitor will know what to do,” said Ellen.

His rage made her feel nervous. She’d always found male anger intimidating. It was so physical.

She said, “You can call him first thing in the morning.”

“Yes,” said Patrick. He turned off his BlackBerry, took a deep breath and glanced at her. “We’re not having a great day, are we?”

Ellen pointed at her stomach. “Shhhh. It was a great day, remember?”

Patrick put his hand briefly on Ellen’s stomach. “Of course it was.”

He put the BlackBerry down on his bedside table and folded the quilt back so that it was covering Ellen but not him.

They snapped off their bedside lamps at the same time, lay down and turned away from each other, their backs pressed together.

“Flat pillow,” said Patrick suddenly, sitting back up and pulling his pillow out from behind his head.

“Oops,” said Ellen. They swapped pillows and lay back down again.

Patrick tapped her leg with his heel to say good night; she tapped back with her heel.

They’d been in a relationship for less than a year, and already they had so many routines, customs and procedures. It was like each new couple created a new kingdom together.

Saskia couldn’t let her kingdom go.

She closed her eyes and Ian Roman’s face immediately loomed in front of her, as if he’d been waiting behind a curtain, ready to jump out the moment she tried to fall asleep.

I’m putting you out of business.

He couldn’t really put her out of business, could he? Even if the article did imply terrible things about her, she wouldn’t lose all her clients, would she? All the goodwill she’d built up over the years couldn’t vanish overnight, could it?

From just one article?

And for heaven’s sake, how bad could that one article be? She wasn’t some sort of evil con artist. She hadn’t done anything wrong.