He took a deep breath and released it slowly, relaxing even further, and glanced round at the white walls of his room, his own framed drawings of his mother and his young sister, Martha, a very small Hockney of tulips in a vase, then at the eight-foot-long old elm table. He loved it all, each item gave him joy. How had he ever thought he should move out of Lafferton and into some dark, beamed, spider-infested cottage? If it made sense to buy a property for investment, as very occasionally crossed his mind, then he could do so, and let it to someone who needed a long-term rental at a fair price. Lafferton was becoming unaffordable for most of his police colleagues, and for many young people making a start in life and work. He enjoyed comfort, he could buy the best steak and a good bottle of wine and new books, take a holiday wherever he wanted, and those were things he appreciated, but he was not otherwise motivated by or interested in money or in accumulating it. It made no sense to continue renting this flat and not owning any property but otherwise he was reminded how happy he was and always had been here. He watched the light on the grass and paths change from silver to an amber gold as the moon slipped behind clouds and the lamps round the close glowed. A moment later, his sister’s car came in sight.

There were very few people he would have been pleased to see, hungry as he was and looking forward to his quiet evening, but Cat was one of them, tonight as ever. He pressed the intercom.

‘Hi, sis, come up.’

But it was not Cat who appeared.

‘Is this OK?’ Sam stood in the doorway looking uncertain, a young man now as tall as him and having to duck his head.

‘Hey.’ He bit back ‘Hope you’ve got your mum’s permission to take her car’, partly because Sam looked miserable and troubled, and because he was no longer the teenager who had passed his driving test at the first legal moment.

‘You can’t have a beer – coffee?’

‘I know I can’t have a beer, thanks, I wouldn’t drink drive any more than you would.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Got any Coke?’

‘Sorry again.’

‘OK, coffee then. I’ll get it. You?’

‘No, I’m off so I’m having a beer.’

They got their drinks in a silence that should have been companionable but felt tense.

‘Have you eaten?’

Sam nodded, and took his mug into the big room and flopped down onto a sofa, head back, eyes closed.

Simon gave him a few moments.

‘Quieter here than at home,’ Sam said eventually. ‘I love that.’

‘Best in winter.’

‘Mum said you might move, get something in the country.’

‘Might. Might not.’

‘I wouldn’t want to leave here.’