“He's a good-looking lad isn't he?” Raymond Stubbs whispered into the psychic's ear.
Sheila Hannigan turned, fighting down the fury that bubbled in her throat, “I hadn't noticed,” she lied.
“Come on,” Ray laughed, nudging her elbow, “There's a special bond between the two of you, anyone with their wits about them can see that.”
“You really do need to go and get your eyes tested,” Sheila joked, playing the situation down, “I'm nearly twenty years older than Roland O'Hare so I am.”
Ray Stubbs gave a sigh and handed Sheila a cup of cider, “Bottoms up, you crazy woman.”
Sheila clinked her cup against his, having to stretch slightly to do so, and smiled to herself. It was true, she did have a special bond with Roland, but luckily not too many people noticed it.
The following morning, with
