Her mood changed a little over the course of the next two drinks each, as the pub filled up around them. She was still friendly, but a distance had crept back in. There were more silences – in which they could then clearly hear that most of the conversations around them involved the siege, the found toddler and the dead couple. After a while Pat tried not to listen.

He felt disappointed, but didn’t let it show. He had started to experience a weird sort of euphoria – survival relief, perhaps. The after-effects of the earlier adrenalin. His headache had greatly subsided, he was getting drunk with his sexy boss, and Liam O’Connell had been found alive and well.

Things could be a lot worse.

A thought popped into his head. ‘You know that smell at Koppler’s house? Any idea what it was?’

Suzanne lifted her glass. ‘Sage. I only know that because someone bought me some sage incense sticks once. It’s used for cleansing, purifying.’

Patrick nodded. He could picture it: Koppler and Sharon burning the sage after accidentally killing Isabel, thinking it would help remove the stain of what they’d done. Clearly, they felt so tainted by it that they continued to burn it at home and Koppler filled his office with the smell. Or perhaps it was something they had always done.

Sometimes it’s easy to ascribe meaning where there is none.

‘Have you got a picture of her?’

‘Of who?’ Patrick was startled, thinking Suzanne meant of Gill, for some reason.

‘Bonnie, of course! I haven’t seen any of her for ages. She must have changed loads. Is she walking?’

Flustered, Pat fished out his phone and tapped into Photos. ‘Oh yeah, she’s been walking ages. She’s almost two now.’

Suzanne shrugged. ‘I don’t have kids. How would I know?’ But she said it in a down-to-earth rather than a bitter manner. He was pretty sure he’d heard her say she didn’t want children. The thought flashed through his mind, for just a second, that perhaps she wouldn’t be any good as a surrogate mother to Bonnie if . . . things ever changed . . .

As if!

As he scrolled through the pictures, holding out the phone to Suzanne, she wriggled closer to him. He almost dropped the phone, then reciprocated until their arms were pressed together. ‘Aw, Pat, she’s adorable!’ she cooed, and he laughed, with pride and amusement at how different she was when inebriated.

A text vibrated his phone and he groaned when he saw that it was from his mum. WILL YOU BE BACK SOON? B NOT SETTLING AT ALL TONIGHT.

‘Oh hell. My poor mother’s been stuck with Bonnie all day and now she won’t go to sleep. Ma will be furious if I stink of beer when I get in.’