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‘But I could describe them,’ Millie said.
‘No, no… really, I don’t want the law involved. I’m not badly hurt.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Martha joined in. ‘If they get away with an attack like this, they might do worse next time.’
‘There won’t be a next time.’
‘What do you mean?’ Millie asked.
‘Do you think I could have a cup of tea?’ George asked, hoping for distraction.
‘Yes, of course,’ Martha replied and turned for the kitchen, adding, ‘Come on Sharon, you can help me.’
‘Why do you need help?’ Sharon asked, only reluctantly following when speared by a meaningful look from Martha.
Under the cover of the two flatmates whispering at each other, the clatter of mugs, the teapot being found, and the sound of a kettle being filled, Millie asked again, ‘What did you mean, there won’t be a next time? How do you know that?’
‘I just do,’ George replied, staring grimly at his feet.
‘One of them seemed to know you.’
‘I didn’t know him; I didn’t know any of them.’
‘The one who said stop. He knew you.’
‘Please.’ George looked up, his tone desperate. ‘Please, leave it Millie.’
‘Why? What aren’t you telling me, George?’
‘Nothing. Nothing important. Just trust me. You don’t need to know.’
