Steph caught hold of Rosie’s hand but released it again when Rosie stiffened. “Yours was the only break we got today,” she admitted. “Debbie knew fuck-all. She’s got herself a new boyfriend, and she’s barely seen Kyle in the last three months. She doesn’t have a clue where he’s been or who he’s been with. And yes, I’m pissed off that you got more from an illicit five-minute chat than I got from five hours of interviews. Wouldn’t you be?”

“Probably. But I might not be such an arsehole about it.”

Steph’s laugh was a little too loud. It was unusual for Rosie to fight back to this extent, and she seemed thrown by it. “Okay, okay, I’m an arsehole. You’re not really going to leave me here, are you?”

Rosie pocketed her scampi fries and pushed her chair back, distracted by thoughts of a brew in bed with biscuits and a hot water bottle. “Yes, unless you want to save me the taxi fare.”

The false bonhomie vanished from Steph’s face, and she fished out her car keys. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”

“No,” Rosie said. “You’re not.”

* * *

The stairs creaked as Jem tiptoed up them, her torch guiding her path so she didn’t have to switch the big light on and disturb Ferg. She strode over the wobbly top step, somehow managing not to spill her mug of Horlicks or upend the plate of banana cake balanced atop it, and made a beeline for her bedroom, where she stowed her supper and huddled back beneath her quilt.

“Bloody Nora,” she whispered, trapping her hands between her thighs to defrost them. It wasn’t even that cold outside, but the old terrace had draughty windows, high ceilings, and a landlord disinclined to fit more efficient central heating. She was alternating sips of Horlicks with bites of cake when her phone vibrated with a WhatsApp message from Rosie. Just checking in to see how you’re doing.

Jem wiggled her fingers to get the blood flowing and then tapped out a reply. I’m all right, thanks. Wide awake, eating cake and watching Supervet. You?

The response was almost instantaneous. I’m missing Supervet?? Which channel?

4seven. It’s a repeat. Bet you’ve already seen it.

Jem retrieved her mug as her phone timed out and its screen turned black. Thirty seconds into the first advert break, it vibrated again, not with a message this time but an incoming call. She fumbled to answer it, inexplicably nervous about speaking to Rosie outside of work.

“No spoilers,” she said, cutting off anything Rosie might say. “I’m very worried about the Pom with the slipped disc, but I need to let it play out.”