‘Adrian loves her, Rin. He really does.’ She hesitated. ‘He said he’d ask if she’d let him adopt her formally if we—’

Rin’s eyes went wide. ‘Did he?’

‘And she would – she’d say yes. She’d love him to be her dad.’

She remembered him standing at the railings on the Millennium Bridge, the dome of St Paul’s lit up behind him as he stared down into the Thames, buffeted by the wind, hair blown back like a ship’s figurehead. Weathering the storm – the storm of her. It had been a long time before he could look at her again, maybe two minutes. Sounded like nothing unless you’d stood through it, the wind making an X-ray of your bones as you watched the pain you’d inflicted on someone you cared about.

‘But you don’t love him.’

Robin let her gaze travel round the room. It settled on a pair of little boys enacting a violent scene with Lego figures at the corner table. ‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘you know me.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You know what it means. It means my head’s wrecked. It means I’m unfit for all that.’

‘Is it him you’re waiting for?’

‘What?’ She’d looked at Corinna, startled.

‘Your phone. You keep checking it. Are you waiting for something from Adrian?’

‘Oh. No. Gid, my DS. Former DS,’ she corrected herself. ‘I texted him earlier to see if there was anything new on Hinton so—’

‘Right.’ Bone-dry.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Go on, drink your beer.’

‘Delicious, Chrissie. Thank you.’ Dennis reached for the spoon and gave himself another helping of cottage pie.

‘Well, you must have been starving, love. It’s nearly eight o’clock.’

‘Oh, I was all right. No need to worry about me.’

‘We have our dinner at seven. Normally.’ Her mother loaded a neat little mouthful onto her fork, and glanced at Robin. ‘Everyone’s hungry after work and school, aren’t they?’

‘Sorry. We probably won’t finish this late every day.’

‘What were you doing? Surely these people aren’t working after dark? Start early, leave early – you can’t do building work after the light starts to go.’

‘It’s not just blue-collar workers who cheat the system. And Maggie does all sorts of different stuff, anyway. Doesn’t she?’

Her mother looked at her, eyes sharp. In the car on the way back, Robin had asked Maggie if Christine knew about the other side of her work.

‘Yeah, she’s one of my best friends. And if I’m off somewhere – like last year, up in the Lake District after my bigamist – I like someone other than Nuttall to know where I am. Not having an other half. If I’m going to get kidnapped by some nutter, I’d like someone to notice within a twenty-four-hour period, you know?’

‘Makes sense. I just can’t believe she didn’t tell me.’