‘I’ll come along.’

‘Aye, I think you should, Henry. Oh, God, I hope he’s not drunk again. Or worse.’

‘Well, let’s see.’

They took the lift down to the ground floor. Hobbes really didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of Fairfax shocked him. Dishevelled wasn’t the word for it. He was filthy, head to foot, his jeans covered with mud, his jacket wet through. The collar torn. His hair was long and tangled, water dripping from it into his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe it away. His fingers were caked with dirt. There was a bruise on his face. A day or so old. Christ. What now?

Latimer went to him first; Hobbes held himself back.

But Fairfax wanted them both; he tried to speak, and failed. But his mouth was lit up in a huge grin. It was absurd, gleeful beyond measure.

What the hell was he laughing at?

Latimer was talking to him, keeping it low. His hands were on her shoulders, then her waist. Hobbes had had enough. He came forward. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Fairfax turned to him. ‘Boss.’ His eyes widened. ‘I found her! I found her!’ He was almost dancing.

‘Found who?’

But he didn’t answer. Latimer tried to keep him still. ‘Tommy? Who did you find?’

‘The sister.’

Hobbes wasn’t sure what he’d just heard.

‘You mean …’

‘The one, the only. I found her!’

Fairfax turned around, his arms waving madly. He drew them both over to a row of seats. And sitting there, beneath a poster advising against letting strangers into your house, was a woman with a certain look about her, a familial likeness.

‘Camilla Graves.’ Fairfax introduced her with a bow. ‘I found her, Meg, do you see?’

‘Yes, yes, I do, Tommy. I see that. You did it.’

The woman on the seat stared at Hobbes, unblinking, her face set in one expression.

It was a look of pure hatred.

A Gift from Grandmother

Tommy Fairfax sat in the chair at Latimer’s desk. Someone had brought him a cup of tea from the machine and now he sipped it. His shirt was still wet and he stank of the downpour, of dirt and rain. A whole bunch of officers had gathered around, watching the scene, muttering among themselves. Hobbes told them to get back to work.

‘Well, then … Fairfax. What have you done this time?’

The answer came in a breath, and Hobbes had to lean in to hear it properly. ‘What did you say?’

‘My duty. Sir.’

It was crazy. A stupid answer.

‘Did you harm her in any way? Did you lay a hand on her?’

‘No. No. Meg, tell him I’m not like that.’

‘I know what you’re like,’ Hobbes said, ‘and that’s the trouble. How come you’re so filthy?’

‘I fell over. It was muddy. That’s all.’

‘You smell of booze.’

‘That’s yesterday’s. It’s hard to clean off.’

‘You didn’t force her to come here?’

‘I did nothing!’ His voice rose, causing the other officers to look over again.