Donna was shocked and hurt by his words. She did not know that Alan was worried for her. After requesting another number two, he had been given word that this woman in front of him was what he had, whether he liked it or not. She was attractive, a nice person, but for company, not for working with on a daily basis on something that could get dangerous, nasty, and already had the bad luck to have Lewis hanging over it like the Sword of Damocles.

Donna stood up unsteadily. Picking up her handbag, she turned to leave the room. Alan sighed.

‘I’m sorry, Donna.’

She turned at the door and he saw in the harsh light the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Walking over to her, he pulled her into his arms. The action made Donna really start to cry. She cried as she hadn’t since the day Georgio was sentenced. She breathed in the smell of Alan Cox, the cigar and brandy odour mixed with a hint of lemon from his aftershave, she felt strong arms around her, pulling her frail body into his, and the longing for her husband overcame everything else, everything that he had said to her, and she found herself holding him, squeezing herself into the confined space of his arms. Frightened in case he let her go too soon and she couldn’t assuage the grief that was inside her.

Alan held her while she cried, unable to understand his sudden tenderness towards her, his feeling that holding her was the right thing to do. Seeing her sitting in front of him, with her face drawn, her active mind concentrating on Stephen Brunos instead of on the job she was already up to her neck in, had angered him. Angered him because he felt ineffective. Georgio wanted her, and so she was the number two. He wanted to ask her how she felt about her husband putting her life in danger, because that was exactly what he had done. It wasn’t just a jailbreak here, and God Himself knew that was enough. It was a jailbreak under the nose of, and without the knowledge of, Donald Lewis.

He could feel her trembling, and when finally she pulled herself away from him, he was sorry. Desperately sorry. Because he was enjoying the nearness of her, the smell of her hair, her perfume.

‘I’m sorry, Alan, you must think me a fool.’

He smiled gently down into her face. Her make-up was smudged, her eyes red and swollen, yet she looked more desirable to him then than any woman had before.

‘You’re upset, Donna, and I’m not surprised. I was a bully, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

She took a deep shuddering breath.