Grant dragged her over to the gaping hole where the window used to be, and under which ran an old-fashioned radiator.
‘This may be a little uncomfortable, Mrs Maddox,’ he said, pulling off his tie with his free hand. ‘But you can’t be trusted.’
He pulled her arm behind her back, and held the knife in his mouth as he grabbed the other, with which she was hitting him. ‘Now,’ he said, as he secured her tightly to the radiator. ‘Now I must think.’
Annie felt the snow begin to soak through the thin material of Harry’s jacket, as the wind blew it unremittingly into the shop. She didn’t feel cold any more. Not the shuddering, painful cold. That had been fear, and she wasn’t afraid now. Now, she was numb.
‘Grant?’ The radio outside suddenly came to life again, and there was no mistaking the flat vowel. Illogical relief flooded over her like a warm shower.
‘Grant. This is Lambert. You know me. I’m the one they kicked out because I didn’t pay enough attention to their rules. And I don’t have to pay any attention to them now, so you’d better answer me.’
Grant looked up slowly from his cogitations. ‘Well, Mrs Maddox?’ he said. ‘What do you say? Do I trust him?’
‘You can trust him,’ she said.
Grant walked slowly out to the car, and opened the driver’s door. He reached in for the microphone, and turned to Annie, holding the knife to her through the window frame. ‘Is he going to offer me tea and biscuits?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not Harry.’
Grant pressed the button. ‘Lambert,’ he said. ‘What have you to say to me?’
‘Lots of things,’ Harry said. ‘But first I want to speak to Annie.’
‘No,’ Grant said.
‘I want proof she’s all right, Grant. And if I don’t get it, I’m coming down to sort you out myself.’
Grant pulled the microphone out to its fullest extent and held it to Annie’s mouth. ‘Tell the man,’ he said.
Annie’s tongue had gone dry. She swallowed with difficulty before trying to speak. ‘I’m all right, Harry,’ she said.