‘Close the door, Terry. Take a seat.’
He sat, feeling like a naughty boy in front of the headmaster, waiting to receive six of the best. ‘Grace, can I just say…’
‘Let me, Terry. I apologise…’
‘What, why should you, I mean…’
‘Let me finish, please. Yesterday, on the road back from Whitburn, you very politely, and rather sweetly, asked me out for a drink and I overreacted, overreacted in an appealingly unpleasant and insulting manner…’
‘No, no, it’s me who should be apologising, so soon after the …loss of Gary, it was insensitive of me…’
‘No, it was…’ and ‘I’m the one who…’ they spoke simultaneously, just as the phone on her desk rang.
‘DCI Swan’ she answered. It was Claybourne.
‘Grace, a word. My office, soon as, please.’ Grace rolled her eyes at Terry, ‘Claybourne’ she mouthed
