‘Well, part of my job – a small part of my job – can be tracing digital histories of people. It could be people who are applying for a job. Sometimes it’s police work. Sometimes it’s private work. It’s not anything dodgy or illegal, just creating a picture of what someone’s online life looks like. As well as someone’s public profile, I can find different accounts coming from the same IP address, trace patterns of use, et cetera. It’s all very nerdy, but I enjoy it.’

Jo wasn’t at all sure where this was going, but she didn’t think it would be anywhere good. She waited for Lorcan to continue.

‘So, Ewan McLachlan is fairly active online – on social media. And, to observers, he seems like a really nice chap. Kind, you know. Helping other writers – just how he helped you. But that’s not the full story. A couple of years ago, we were approached by a private investigator to try and find any online evidence that McLachlan wasn’t exactly Ronseal solid.’

‘Ronseal solid?’ Jo asked, the expression new to her.

‘Not as advertised,’ Lorcan said. ‘You know, like the ad on the TV for Ronseal. They seemed to believe he didn’t exactly offer what it said on the tin, if you get my meaning.’

Jo thought she did, but, to be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure. ‘So what did you find out? Oh God, don’t tell me he’s some sort of predator?’

‘Oh God, no!’ Lorcan said. ‘Well, not in a sexual way. He does indeed seem to be a fairly likeable fellah. What he isn’t, however, is particularly original.’

‘What?’ Jo asked, now completely baffled. She wished Lorcan would just zoom straight past go and get to the punchline.

Lorcan shifted in his seat. The bookshop was busy now with lunchtime browsers, and people looking to enjoy a coffee. ‘Actually,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea to talk about this here?’

God, it must be something really serious. Jo was about to suggest they went for a walk, but when she looked out the window the bright morning had turned to a grey and very wet afternoon.

‘Hang on,’ she said, no longer eager to stall this conversation and go home. ‘I’ll ask Libby for the key to the flat and we can talk there.’

Lorcan nodded and Jo stood up without speaking, walked to the counter and mumbled something fairly garbled at Libby, but which amounted to, ‘Let me have your key now because there is gossip.’

Libby reached under the counter for her keys and handed them over with a wink. ‘Now, you two behave yourselves. I know kiss and make up is the usual way these things go, but try and limit the kissing maybe. Or at least be careful if it goes further than that!’