He’d shrugged. ‘Your choice. But when you do get to the point where you’ve had enough of the grind of procedure and the pettiness of the top brass, it’s an option.’

What Tony had suffered in the course of his work cast a bitter light on the conversation now. Paula had seen the destruction at first hand, and she was grateful that she had routine and procedure to cling on to among the wreckage. She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing by coming here, but her instincts, both professional and personal, had led her inevitably to his door. Or hatchway, she supposed you’d have to call it. At least it wasn’t a late call. Shortly before seven, Fielding had sent the team home. ‘There’s no budget for overtime and until we’ve got something back from the lab and the CCTV, you’re all just spinning your wheels.’ Paula had been stunned. Overtime had never been an issue on her old squad. They got on and did what had to be done when they were in the thick of it. The theory was that they’d take it easier in the quiet spells. Only there never had been any quiet spells.

She stood on the quayside, momentarily flummoxed by the etiquette. When she’d been here before, they’d arrived together and she’d simply followed Tony aboard. But it felt somehow intrusive to climb aboard and knock on the hatch. Logically, it was no different to walking up someone’s path to knock on the door. Yet it felt wrong.

‘Get a grip, woman,’ she muttered, stepping aboard the steel-hulled narrowboat, not quite prepared for the definite movement of the deck beneath her feet. She almost stumbled, caught herself and rapped on the hatch. The top section swung open almost at once and Tony’s startled face appeared below.

‘Paula. I thought you were a drunk.’

Her smile was grim. ‘Not quite. Not yet. You get a lot of drunks dropping by?’

He busied himself with opening up to let her in. ‘Sometimes. Usually later than this. They think it’s amusing to jump on and off boats. It can be disconcerting.’ He spread the doors wide and beckoned her in with a grin. ‘And I wasn’t expecting you.’ His face clouded in a frown. ‘Was I?’

Paula squeezed past him down the galley and into the saloon. The TV screen was frozen in a scene apparently set in a deep mine. A games console lay discarded on the table. ‘No. It was a spur of the moment decision.’ She took off her damp coat and hung it on a hook on the bulkhead then sat down on the buttoned leather banquette that surrounded three sides of the table.