As he sits down, she sees it in his face. The old Ron had that skill of keeping one eye on the room, ninety percent focused on whoever he was with, ten percent aware of his surroundings, who was coming in, who was going out. For the first time since she’s known him, he seems properly relaxed.

‘Bottoms up.’ He raises his pint, and they chink glasses. ‘So. How’s it going?’

‘First day of the trial today. Nothing to report yet, of course, just the usual legal arguments, all the jury stuff. You know how it goes. It’s going to be a long one. The whole case will keep the CPS in business for years to come.’

‘How many did you hoover up in the end?’

‘The network we’ve uncovered so far includes thirteen men, some more involved than others. There’s been a massive amount of work tracking them down, mainly via internet history and phone records, and we’ve shut down a number of sites on the dark web. Very nasty stuff. Let’s not go there. Gary Prentice has already pleaded guilty but will only do two years, thanks to information he provided. But he’ll go on the sex offenders’ register and that’s worth something too. Thanks to you, Ron.’

‘That’s a fantastic result, Rachel. I was merely following your direction. Congratulations.’ Ron raises his pint to toast her.

‘It gets me down sometimes, to be truthful,’ she says. ‘No matter how many of the bad guys we take out, there’ll always be more tomorrow.’

‘Why can’t people just behave themselves, eh?’ asks Ron.

‘Exactly.’

‘Ah, the problem of all mankind, right through history. Sounds to me like you’re at that point where you have to abandon your ideas of saving the world and accept you can only do so much. Keep focused on your successes.’

‘Is that what you did, Ron?’

He takes another sip of his pint.

‘Sometimes. When June reminded me. The wisdom is hers, not mine.’

A young waiter arrives with their food. Ron’s pie smells deliciously savoury, and Naylor briefly regrets her healthy choice, but there’s a holiday bikini to be considered, in a few weeks’ time.

‘Cracking,’ says Ron, picking up his knife and fork. ‘Wherever you go in the world, you can’t beat British pub food.’ He reaches for the vinegar bottle and shakes it over his chips. ‘How are those two boys doing, Evan and Liam?’

Quietly in the background, a song Naylor knows well but can’t name begins on the sound system. The lyrics seem sadly apropos, speaking of a return to childhood’s innocence. Without a large dose of amnesia, for Evan and Liam that must be an impossible goal.

And yet . . .