It was as she was getting dressed that she spotted a WhatsApp from her sister. At first she was worried that she’d missed one of her nieces’ birthdays. Then she read the late-night rant about the Crawleys being her dear friends, and how Kelly had tried to ruin them. She showed Johnny. Nikki and Dave Crawley’s wife had gone to school together, and she’d never forgiven Kelly for putting Dave behind bars, despite the fact that his lorries were full of sex workers.

‘Do you want me to speak to her?’ he asked. Johnny had been the one who’d been there for Nikki when the darkness drove her to the edge. He’d arranged PTSD counselling, but he could only go so far.

‘Why should you?’ Kelly said.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Because I don’t want you to and I’m not involved. It’s not a problem, really.’

‘To be honest, I think she’s worked out by now that you’re on my side. Don’t bother. If she does it again, I’ll block her.’ It was the end of the conversation. She was determined not to let it sour her good mood, and she pushed Dave Crawley and his self-pity out of her mind.

She said goodbye to Johnny, who planned to take Josie shopping for the morning in Kendal. It wasn’t Bond Street, but it had some cute boutiques, and he’d be back in time for lunch.

She was given the news about Miranda Cooper’s fatal car accident on her way to see Graeme Millar. She could have brought him in, but they were supposed to be friends. It was Saturday, so she’d given herself a luxurious lie-in until 8.30. Matt had probably slept in the office again; she’d had two missed calls from him before her alarm even went off.

She seriously couldn’t get her head around Graeme being somehow involved, but the facts indicated differently, and Matt seemed hell-bent on the new angle. She’d toyed with Philip Tooting about Occam’s law, but now it was staring her in the face: the simplest explanation was usually the correct one, and Graeme Millar had been in too many convenient (or inconvenient) places during the inquiry. Last night Johnny had told her that Graeme had brought a girl to the pub who’d been asking all sorts of questions about the case. He thought she was called Millie until she showed him a picture and he confirmed it. Tilly Knight was cleverer than anyone gave her credit for. A journo would have done her homework, and there was no reason why she couldn’t have found out about the boatyard and got to know Graeme. She was young and attractive: what single man could resist? Graeme had some explaining to do. And Kelly wanted to know if he’d ever served with Leo Brown.