Rosemary was reaching down the tin from a shelf in the kitchen when she heard Todd’s raised voice outside.
         “That’s not you I see up there, is it, Jude?”
         It sounded loud and teasing, quite unlike the way he’d been talking to Rosemary.
         “There’s no need to shout,” Crane’s affected voice snapped back at Todd from an upstairs window. “And it’s Judy.”
         “What’re you up to these days?”
         “Same as usual.”
         “Oh yes? Fannying round with your feather duster?”
         “Don’t be so rude.”
         “How’s Jack?”
         “Fat lot you care.”
         “Haven’t lost your sharp tongue, Jude."
         “Not for some people.”
         “And I’m glad to see you’re still taking care of yourself? What with the hairdo and make-up.” Somehow his tone made the remark uncomplimentary.
         “And you’ve still got a bleeding great gob on you!” she screeched, forgetting herself.
         Rosemary was thrilled. She prayed that her mother had overheard her precious Crane shrieking like a fishwife. She took the biscuit tin outside and glanced up at the bedroom windows, but there was now no sign of Crane.
         “Is Mrs Crane a friend of yours?”
         “I’ve known her for a while, on and off.”
         “It was Mrs Crane who recommended you to me.”
         “Was it now?” Creases appeared at the corners of Todd's eyes, the only suggestion of a private amusement. He took a biscuit from the proffered tin.