‘Crumpled up in an uncomfortable position and likely to roll off onto the floor? I don’t think so. I’m going to make us scrambled eggs because there isn’t much else in until I go shopping tomorrow, and you need something light but nourishing.’

‘I could try a whisky.’

‘We’ve already vetoed that. I could make it an omelette with mushrooms and top it with grated cheese . . .’ Her voice tailed off as she saw car headlights sweep up and drive. ‘Who the hell’s that at this time of night?’

‘I’m not up to seeing anyone, Cat, if it’s the station . . .’

The front door opened and they heard Wookie the Yorkshire terrier hurl himself off the kitchen sofa and skitter into the hall, barking little yelping barks of excitement. Friendly, welcoming barks.

‘It’s the station only not the station. You up to seeing him?’

‘Hey . . . ?’ Simon loomed into the doorway, ducking his head as he came in. ‘Everything all right?’

Kieron groaned.

‘Oh. Have you taken a tumble? What did you do?’

‘Hold on, before you settle down to a debrief . . . Si, are you here to eat? Drink? Just passing by?’

‘What’s on offer?’

‘Drink you know what, eat is a fairly meagre omelette and, if I can find any at the bottom of the freezer, possibly some rather elderly frozen chips.’

‘Do me, thanks, sis. I could murder a Scotch. Been in Starly most of the afternoon. Kieron?’

‘No!’

Simon followed his sister into the kitchen.

‘Is it as bad as it looks?’

‘Probably a torn tendon – painful and can take ages to heal. I haven’t quite said that yet.’

‘I did it to a ligament.’

‘God yes, also skiing, I remember. Dad made you carry on regardless for the rest of the day and you were clearly in agony.’

‘How old were we?’

‘Twelve? Thirteen?’

‘Can he really not have a Scotch?’

‘Not with the painkillers. I’ll have a Coke with him, I’ve had one gin and I don’t want to rub salt in the wound. What were you doing in Starly anyway, or don’t I ask?’

‘Actually, yes, you do, it’s why I’m here. I need to pick your medical brain.’

‘Honey, I haven’t got one left to pick tonight. Can it wait?’

‘Well . . .’

‘All right, you go and talk to K, I’ll get supper, after which we’ll help him up to bed and then I’ll try but it’s probably a question of how long I can keep awake. You can stay over.’

‘I ought not. I’m off duty but there’s . . . stuff.’

‘And is that stuff you also want to talk to me about?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Well, take this in to him and try and get his mind off his bloody knee.’

‘Harsh.’

‘Get out . . .’

Kieron had his eyes closed.

‘I tried on the whisky, but she wasn’t having it, sorry.’