‘Where the fuck are we going?’I pull my gaze from the road, turn to her, and smile. Harper turns too. Fuck, those eyes. Emerald-green, and so beau...ifully bright even when she is pissed-off or sad. And when she is happy, like she is at this moment... Christ, they pull me in like some force of expressive gravity that I am powerless to fight against. I swallow hard then grip the steering wheel even harder.“You’re tense,” she says.“Yeah,” I reply.“You know I don't care where we go.”“Yeah,” I. "If you're a friend of Mrs Milton then I'm sure the police will want to talk to you." I came to discuss double glazing," I said "can I interest you... ?", he made a swift withdrawal and I quickly walked away.What the hell was going on? I needed to talk to anyone who knew Emma and the only person I could think of was Phillipa. I didn't have her surname or the piece of paper with her telephone number, that was probably still in the pocket of my grey suit back in the barracks, if not there then. More

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