Steph shrugged. “Dinner at mine, and you can watch the tape to your heart’s content.”

Rosie was so gobsmacked she actually laughed. “No,” she said. “Thanks, but no.”

The laptop slammed closed as Steph hit the back of its screen. “What? Why not? Have you got a hot date with Jemima?”

“No, I haven’t. I just don’t want one with you.”

Steph turned so sharply that she sent a thick waft of scent into Rosie’s face. Rosie had loved that particular fragrance once, but now it just made her queasy.

“I don’t get it,” Steph said. “I don’t get what you see in her. How has she managed to turn you into her fucking lapdog?”

Rosie picked up her coat and slid her bad arm into its sleeve, her actions calm and deliberate and a direct contrast to Steph’s foot-stamping tantrum. “I’m going home,” she said. She stood too abruptly and had to grab the sofa to steady herself. “Was this the reason you brought me here? To bribe me into having dinner with you?”

“Would you have agreed to see me if I’d just asked nicely?” Steph snapped. She came to stand directly in front of Rosie. Although they were matched in height, the spite radiating off her made her seem taller.

Rosie let her coat fall, one shoulder in, the other out. She didn’t have the energy for any of this. “What do you think?” she said.

“I think you and Jem deserve each other.”

Rosie nodded, not insulted in the slightest. “I really hope so.”

Steph arched an eyebrow, clearly wrong-footed. “Don’t come crawling to me when it all goes to shit, Roz.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rosie busied herself sorting out her coat. Her bad arm was stiff and clumsy, making the zip a challenge. “Let my sarge know when you’ve sorted out the permissions on the CCTV.”

“When did you grow a fucking backbone?” Steph asked, incredulous.

“Thursday,” Rosie said. She didn’t react as Steph stepped toward her, but Steph merely returned to the sofa and logged on to the laptop. She moved a video file into the centre of the screen and then walked to the door.

“I’m not going to apologise,” she said.

That was the least of Rosie’s concerns. “I’m not going to ask you to.”

“Lock up when you’re done,” Steph said, and shut the door behind her.

For a couple of minutes, Rosie stayed where she was, unsure what had just happened and almost certain that watching the video footage would bring Steph back into the room, flushed with triumph and ready to collect her dues.

“Fuck it,” Rosie whispered, as yet another minute passed and the corridor beyond the door remained deserted. She resumed her seat and opened the video file, then pushed the table farther away to put some distance between herself and whatever the CCTV might have captured.