She snatches up her keys, thoughts of the vault flashing through her mind, thoughts of the warmth of his hands on her ice cold skin after he'd rescued her from the Kale's meat locker.

"Isn't what? Go on, say it, Gene. 'A bitter, twisted, toffee-nosed, clenched arsed bitch' like me? At least have the decency to say it to my face instead of whinging about me behind my back."

Maybe if she can drive him away, it'll be easier, for both of them.

Her eyes take on a sheen, and she's shaking too bad to get the key in the lock.