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He thought for a minute, before nodding towards the door that led back to the front office. ‘Lorraine is addicted to pizza. It doesn’t agree with her. She has some kind of food intolerance. She would eat it for every meal, but she has to be reasonably happy with a couple of slices once a month. None of us can—’

‘Hang on,’ Kim said. ‘I’m talking to you about being free to love who you love and you’re talking to me about food choices?’

‘What I’m trying to explain is that some people don’t want the consequences of their indulgence.’

‘And I’m saying that sexual identity isn’t like having a bloody wheat problem,’ Kim said, trying to keep her tone on the right side of being thrown out.

‘It’s about making a choice.’

‘And did Sarah make a choice?’

‘It’s fair to say that Sarah tried her best.’

‘In what way?’

‘Sarah wasn’t content to abstain and choose another way of life. I mean, she tried but it wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted the urges, desires, thoughts removed. She did not want to be gay.’

‘I understand that,’ Kim said. ‘So you had to explain that there was nothing more to be done and to recommend further counselling to help her accept herself, yes?’

He frowned. ‘No. That goes against everything we believe in. Just because we couldn’t help her didn’t mean we just gave up on her. Sarah’s sheer determination to change made her a suitable candidate for referral.’

‘To where?’

‘Change Clinic in Bridgnorth.’

‘For what?’

‘Specialised therapy.’

A pit formed in Kim’s stomach.

‘Can you spell it out for me, Mr Stamoran?’

‘Absolutely. We sent her there to be cured.’

THIRTY-TWO

Unusually, Penn looked a little pale as he entered the squad room, Stacey noted.

Even though it was almost six and they’d been at work for eleven hours, neither of them would go home until the boss rang the bell.

‘You okay?’ she asked as he slumped down into his chair.

‘Yeah, just two in one day is a bit much. I don’t know how Keats does it,’ he said, shaking his head.

A few blonde curls escaped from the power gel he used when leaving the office. Had it been earlier in the day, he’d have reached for one of the bandanas in the top drawer.

‘Thought you didn’t mind them?’ Stacey said.

‘I don’t mind sprouts at Christmas but I wouldn’t want a plate full of the little buggers.’

‘Fair point,’ Stacey conceded. ‘But now you’re back can I pick your brains?’

‘Unfortunate choice of words given where I’ve been all day but go ahead.’

‘If you wanted to leave your wife, how would you do it?’

‘Well, seeing as I don’t have…’


Tags: Angela Marsons Suspense