Owen began to ease the door closed behind him, trying to shut himself out on the step with the police, as if distancing himself from his own life. He looked faintly ridiculous in his T-shirt, dressing gown and slippers.

‘Is it about Cal and Stride?’ he said. ‘Give me a minute, then I’ll be with you. No problem.’

Then Owen looked up and saw DI Hitchens standing on the roadside, and he read something in his expression. He stared at Hitchens like a man contemplating the final ascent of Mount Everest and knowing he would never make it, because the effort was too great. Owen Fox had become a small man at the bottom of a dark pit. He stood out of the light, away from the world, desolate and alone. The sun that reached his pot plants fell short of crossing his doorstep.

‘Don’t bother shutting the door,’ said Hitchens. ‘We’ve got a search warrant.’

28

‘That was the river, this is the sea.’

Ben Cooper turned up the volume on his stereo and opened the cover of his Waterboys CD. He was amazed to find it dated from 1985. In fact, most of the music he possessed was the stuff he had liked twelve or fifteen years ago as a teenager. Somehow, his tastes hadn’t changed during the time since he had joined the police service – or maybe he just hadn’t had time to discover any new kinds of music.

Cooper looked at his books. The copy of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin he had been trying to read was written in 1994. It was about the most recent thing on his shelves, and somebody had given him that. Apart from the job, it seemed his time had been spent drinking beer with other police officers, taking part in individual sports or walking in the countryside. At least he had some friends outside the service. He made a mental note to get in touch with Oscar and Rakki. It had been months since they had gone anywhere together.

One of the CDs in the rack was of a concert by the Derbyshire Constabulary Choir, recorded six years ago. There was a photo of the choir on the cover, and on the back row with the tenors was Ben Cooper himself, then a uniformed PC. Cooper compared the picture with his reflection in the mirror in the wardrobe door. His hair was a bit shorter at the back now, his face a bit fuller. But he looked much the same, didn’t he? So why did he feel so different inside? Was it the police service that had done that to him?

Suddenly, he felt weary. He replaced the CD and lay down on his bed, letting the sound of Mike Scott’s voice roll over him. ‘Once you were tethered, now you are free. That was the river, this is the sea.’