Viola turned the page, snorting at what she saw next. It was a naked sketch – a cartoon fantasy version of Leah Cedars, hazy and curvy, with too much breast and thigh and hair, the eyes disproportionately large. Another naked drawing followed, altogether different. Here, the style was naturalistic and Leah was flawed, her breasts not inflated, her stomach not so perfectly flat. She was posed as if straddling the viewer, her hands between her legs, head tossed back, eyes closed. Open-mouthed, she was at the peak of pleasure.

Viola dropped the book; she didn’t like this image. She knew that Leah Cedars was having sex with both Mr Hailey and Saul Cooper, if Michael Signal was to be believed, but it suited Viola to think of Leah as stiff, ungiving, because if she really was the woman shown in that drawing, then it meant that she was powerful.

Viola headed back out again, across the cobbles, following the sound of familiar laughter drifting from the Anchor. The day had hit noon and the shutters and windows of the pub were cast wide to chase out the stale smells of the night before.

She walked a curve towards the building so as not to be seen approaching, positioning herself at an angle by the window to look in. Saul was there, on a stool at the bar, tipping back the last amber splash of a pint. Jed Springer removed the empty glass and replaced it with a full one. Viola wasn’t sure what was most shocking: the sight of Saul Cooper passing time with the waistcoated landlord, one of the brothers of the Council who had conspired against his beloved Leah, or that he was at least two drinks up at lunchtime, the Customs House sitting unmanned.

‘Bad Angel is about fucking right,’ Viola heard Saul say.

Jed Springer chuckled. ‘Too fucking right, and if…’ The landlord paused to look over his left shoulder, then his right, a little comedy routine – he wasn’t really worried about being overheard. He leant in close for the next bit. ‘If the mother is anything to go by, she’s got a tight Swedish pussy too, very nice, thank you very much.’

Jed made an okay sign with fingers and thumb, nodding enthusiastically. They both sniggered, the truth not important – schoolboys at the back of the bus. The men’s bathroom door swung open at the rear of the bar and Luke Signal sauntered out, still buttoning his fly.

‘Who’s got a tight pussy?’ he called across the room. ‘That you, Saul?’