A Woman Accused

‘This is the 1990s, not the Dark Ages.’

‘That’s—that’s good to know. I—I...’ Olivia swallowed drily. ‘It’s late,’ she said softly. ‘Why don’t you head home? It was—it was kind of you to stay after hours.’

‘Listen, if you need to talk... If you need a shoulder to lean on... Even tonight. I could stay a while, or we could go out for a bite...?’

‘No,’ Olivia said quickly, ‘no, that’s all right. You—you go on. I’m fine.’

‘Sure?’

Olivia nodded. ‘Sure,’ she said. Somehow she managed to smile. ‘I’m going to go upstairs, get into my robe, and make myself an omelette. Then I’ll take a long, hot bath and climb into bed with a good book.’

It was a good prescription. But it was impossible to fill. Instead, she stood immobile in the centre of the room, listening to the tap of Dulcie’s heels on the stairs, then to the muffled thud of the front door as it slammed shut, and then she sank down into the chair at her desk.

Dear heaven, what a mess! First Edward Archer, now Dulcie. Dulcie, of all people. How could she think such a thing? Never mind. She could survive it, at least until Ria surfaced and she could tell Dulcie the truth.

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