“He owes you fifty pence,” Jem said. “Make sure he pays up, as well. He’s tighter than a duck’s arse.” She collected the drinks and waited until Paula came round to get the door for her. Paula shimmied in front of the counter and then rolled up her left trouser leg to reveal a newfangled prosthesis.

“What do you think of this? Swanky, eh?”

“Hey, check you out!” Jem said. “That’s fab.”

“I’m jogging again.” Paula did a little jig on the spot to demonstrate. “Not far, just around the lake, but it’s a start, right?”

“Absolutely. It’s bloody brilliant.” Jem gave her a brew-restricted but heartfelt hug. It was less than eighteen months since a truck had mounted the pavement and hit Paula while she’d been out running. Jem had crawled beneath the chassis and clamped her fingers around Paula’s exposed femoral artery. It had taken over an hour to extricate them, and a further half-hour until the surgeons at A&E had allowed Jem to let go. As bonding experiences went, it was certainly a unique one.

“Are you on a bus today?” Paula asked, indicating the two cups.

“No, the car. One of these is for a friend.”

“Is it, now?” Paula elbowed her. “A ‘friend’ you’re meeting mid-shift?”

“She’s a police officer, Paula. We did the Kyle Parker job together and got talking, that’s all.”

“Mm-hm,” Paula said, scepticism radiating from every inch of her. “Your hair looks gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Jem took a nonchalant sip of her tea. “She cut it for me.”

Paula hooted, her hands flying up as if she’d just scored the winner in added time. “Name,” she demanded. “So I can tell Dan all about her.”

Jem kissed her on the cheek. “Her name is Rosie, and she’s very sweet, but do feel free to make something more salacious up for Dan.”

“I most certainly will.” Paula held the door open. “Take a sneaky pic and send it to me.”

“I most certainly will not,” Jem said, and walked out into the rain.

Her radio buzzed as she put the key into the RRV’s ignition. “Hey, Ryan. What’s up?” She punched her pin into the data screen and winced. She would go out of the system for her break at four o’clock, which meant he had one hundred and fifty seconds to pass her a job before he lost her for twenty minutes.

“Sorry, Jem. I know you’re heading in for your rest, but would you mind checking out a possible Joey on your way? There’s no one else available, and we need to get it out of the stack.”

She relaxed into her seat. Hoax calls were easy to deal with: drive past the telephone box, have a look whether anyone was there, and confirm with control that the time-wasting little shitbags had scarpered.