He looked at her, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised by her response and she found herself caught in a surreal landscape that her brain was struggling to register. She’d surrendered herself completely, put herself at his mercy, and now that he’d given her a way out, it appeared her mind wouldn’t accept it. Could it possibly be this easy?

‘It’s a genuine offer, Sara. I honestly just want to help, and tell me… what’s the alternative?’

He got off the desk and walked back to his chair, letting his question hang in the air while he settled himself, waiting for her to say something. But words wouldn’t come, because now she thought about it, there really was no alternative.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t imagine the consequences if the police were involved. She’d go to prison, as sure as night followed day. And what would happen to her family then?

‘Thank you,’ she said, before she could think about it any more, a tacit acceptance of his offer.

He gave her a smile. ‘Here’s the deal. I’ll pay back what you stole.’ The word ‘stole’ loomed large in her mind, and she understood then that whatever the deal was, she’d readily accept. ‘You can pay me back as and when you have the money.’

She chewed at her lip, unable to believe she’d got away with her misdemeanour quite so easily.

‘And in the meantime, while you’re in my debt, you can do me a little favour.’

Chapter Eleven

Sara couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare at James, who still had that gentle smile on his face. Then he laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried. It won’t be anything horrible. It gets you out of trouble and it helps me out too.’

A favour?

She swallowed, her voice wavering. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re suggesting.’ It doesn’t matter. Do anything, whatever it takes, a voice in her head was shouting at her. It sounded like her mother. He’s letting you off! You’ve escaped.

She remembered whispered conversations in the kitchen at home, when she’d been back there with her mum: ‘Sometimes you’ve got to do unsavoury things. Just grin and bear it if it helps you get through another day or week.’ Her mother was pragmatic, a woman whose dreams had come to nothing and had learnt that life had a seedy underbelly when you ran out of money and had two kids to look after. She’d drifted from man to man, becoming a hollow shell of the cheerful mum Sara liked to remember, the essence of her more faded every time her daughters were allowed to see her. Until the day she overdosed. Accidental or intentional, it was never clear, but Sara hoped she was finally at peace.