‘Right, that’s it. One more word, and I’ll drive you both to the Job Centre.’ But when she turned away to hang up her coat, she grinned.

Three quarters of an hour later, Maggie’s mobile rang. ‘Al?’

Robin stiffened.

‘What’s the latest? Have they?’ Maggie stood and went to the window, looking out over the tiled roofs opposite. ‘Shannon Harris – Shannon like the river?’ She turned and mimed a scribbling motion. ‘Right.’ She covered the phone with her hand, mouthed prostitute. ‘Okay, of course, will do. Thanks, really appreciate it.’

Robin let her shoulders drop – she’d got away with it – and at the same moment she remembered the man outside the Serbian church. Pimp.

‘What’s that?’ said Maggie. She was still on the phone; she hadn’t hung up. She listened for a few seconds and Robin, deliberately looking down, was aware of her turning round. She felt her neck prickle. ‘What?’ Maggie said, confused. ‘No. Oh – yeah, of course. Sorry, senior moment. No, definitely good news – thanks again.’

She hung up and walked slowly back to her desk where she made a few clicks on the laptop. Looking at her Sent messages, Robin thought with cheeks aflame, checking the trash folder.

‘Is this how you worked at the Met?’

Chapter Twenty-two

There was no bench on this stretch of the pavement, just some bollards outside Ladbrokes to thwart ram-raiders and a litter bin with a lip meanly designed to deny anyone a three-second perch. Robin loitered between them, so intent on her own watching that it was a couple of minutes before she realized that she was likely being watched, someone inside Ladbrokes at this very moment monitoring the CCTV, wondering when she was going to come in and stick them up for the takings on the 2.20 at Doncaster. She crossed the road again and took another turn on the pavement outside a large Chinese supermarket she hadn’t noticed when they’d been here before.

Until this afternoon, she’d never thought literally about the expression ‘tear a strip off’ but now it described exactly how she felt: strip-waxed, the top layer of her skin ripped away. Maggie’s anger had been all the more blistering because it had been contained at first by Lorraine’s presence. Robin had felt her across the table seething, gathering steam. After twenty minutes she’d said, ‘Let’s pop out for a second.’ As they’d gone downstairs, her body heat had seemed to radiate, scorching.

They’d gone round the corner onto Corporation Street, where she’d stopped short. ‘It’s not what you asked him. I’d have asked him for you if you’d asked me.’

You wouldn’t, Robin thought. Not Ana.