There was no way she could stand arguing with him in front of the interested eyes of Mrs Atkinson, who would already be wondering why Roz was at home during the day and who the young man she seemed about to entertain might be? And why were they not exchanging words, as Roz let him in and closed the door after him? ‘All right, Roz?’ Mrs Atkinson eagerly asked. ‘Fine, thanks, Mrs Atkinson. Mr Shield’s just called round with something about work,’ Roz answered, keeping her face averted, though she had no hope that her ravaged face would have gone unnoticed. ‘This way, Mr Shield.’ With a polite nod to Mrs Atkinson, Jamie followed Roz up the stairs to the first-floor flat, where she showed him into the living room. ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ he said, standing very still, his face, like hers, showing the effects of the ordeal of the day. ‘I had to,’ she said coldly, ‘but I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve nothing to say to each other now.’ ‘That’s not true, Roz!
