Ron smiles.

‘You always look good, Naylor. But you look tired. Goes with the territory, I know.’

‘You’re just feeling smug, now you’re looking at a future of long lie-ins. Did June mind me borrowing you?’

‘As she says, that depends why you’re borrowing me. She says hello, by the way.’

‘Say hello back. And the reason I’m borrowing you is for a good cause.’

Ron looks at her over the top of his glass.

‘Namely?’

‘Evan Ferrers.’

‘Ah. I did wonder.’

A family group enters the garden, a young woman holding a thumb-sucking toddler by the hand, her partner with a protective hand on the tiny newborn strapped to his chest. The woman is glowing with something Naylor can’t name. The toddler is making a big thing of climbing on to a bench, and the partner is unstrapping the baby from his chest, cradling its head like it’s the most precious thing on earth.

Ron follows her glance.

‘I see people like that and it just makes me realise how often we fail,’ says Naylor. ‘Fail to keep people safe, I mean.’

‘On the balance of probabilities, they’ll get through life just fine,’ says Ron. ‘You know the statistics.’

‘We all know the statistics. I don’t suppose they’d impress Claire Ferrers.’

Ron shakes his head.

‘No, I don’t suppose they would. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?’

‘It’s what’s not going on. We were all ticking along, following – by and large – Uncle Ron’s golden rules for a successful investigation. No stone unturned. You taught us well. But we’ve been pulled off it for the second time. Stones have been left face down in the mud.’

Ron sighs. The young woman is now cradling the baby, while the toddler’s becoming engrossed in a colouring book. The partner is walking purposefully into the pub, smiling in anticipation of a cold drink.

‘’Twas ever thus,’ says Ron. ‘Staff shortages have been a fact of policing since the year dot. I know you don’t rate Campbell, but don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t suppose it sits any easier with him than it does with you. If you want to complain about it, write to your MP.’

‘I was thinking of taking more effective steps than that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like drafting in a support team on the quiet.’

Ron’s eyebrows lift.

‘Come on, Ron, it’s nothing major. Nothing illicit involved. Just the kind of enquiries anyone could make, if they’d a mind to. If they had the training to ask questions without getting anyone’s back up.’

‘I feel the need for a bag of crisps,’ says Ron, standing up. ‘You want one?’

‘Peanuts, please.’

Ron returns and throws two bags of Walker’s on the table.

‘No peanuts,’ he says. ‘Cheese and onion or prawn cocktail.’

Naylor grabs the prawn cocktail. Ron opens the cheese and onion.