Carol might not have known much about dogs, but even before Stacey had weighed in, she had realised it wasn’t acceptable to leave the dog alone for long periods of time. They were supposed to keep each other company, after all. So she opened the rear door of the Land Rover and spread a couple of blankets on the floor. Flash jumped aboard as if it was routine. Carol added a litre-bottle of water and a plastic bowl to her dog-walking kit of leash, training treats and plastic bags, and they were ready to roll. One way or another, she’d find time to walk the dog.

She beat Scott to Skenfrith Street by five minutes but she didn’t go inside, thinking it more sensible to wait at the car-park entrance. Scott was perfectly groomed as ever, immaculate in a fitted charcoal-grey suit over a sharply tailored blue-and-white pinstriped shirt. The narrow skirt, coupled with teetering heels, showed off her legs to distracting advantage. Carol felt like a frump in her best black trouser suit and flatties, both from the Hobbs’ sale a couple of years ago. This time, they were shown to an interview room away from the custody suite, fitted with recording equipment and a long narrow wall mirror. It had the familiar grey walls and the mingled smell of stale bodies and cleaning chemicals. Without thinking, Carol headed straight for the chairs that weren’t bolted to the floor. Scott laughed. ‘Old habits die hard, Carol. You’re on the wrong side of the table.’ As Carol made to stand up, Scott waved her back down. ‘It’s OK, it’s only us here. Stay where you are for the time being.’

Scott sat down and put on a pair of rectangular glasses with thin black frames. They made her look like a sexily strict headmistress. She opened a file and studied the contents page by page. When Tony was shown in a few minutes later, she closed the file and stood up. As he approached the table, she moved towards him and put a hand on his arm. ‘How was your night?’