‘What’s wrong is you don’t know when to stop, Niall. You’ve got a lovely wife in Eden, but I’m guessing she’s not enough; you’ve got a nice house – for a lot of people it would be a dream home – but you want something way bigger.’ He paused. ‘You know what I learned a long time ago?’

‘What?’

‘Success isn’t about wanting what you don’t have, it’s wanting what you do have.’

‘Yeah, well, obviously I’m not a success, yet. So, yeah, you’re lucky, you have the perfect life – a woman you love, and a great kid. Good for you. Do you want me to tell you what’s happened or are you going to carry on bloody lecturing me?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘So me and Eden went last Sunday to Parham House. We had a nice time there, wandering around, and a good lunch in their cafeteria. I wanted to get back to watch the Belgian Grand Prix and do a bike ride and she starts going on about needing to pick up some cat litter that I’d forgotten to buy the day before.’

‘Had you?’

‘Maybe, but hear me out.’

Tuckwell nodded.

‘So, Eden’s very specific, she wants to go to the Tesco Holmbush, because they stock the brand the stupid cat likes – I dunno – maybe it’s soft on its bum or something.’

‘Or it’s the cheapest,’ his friend suggested, subtly reminding him of his parlous finances. But the dig went over his head.

‘Whatever, she promises to be only a few minutes. But I know what happens when Eden goes into a store – she’s like, Oh, I’ll get some of this while I’m here, and, Oh, maybe we need more loo roll and we only have two bananas left and, oh, better get some more yoghurt and butter while I’m here, and, Oh, we’re running low on tomatoes and cat food and – and all the bloody rest, right? Cheryl’s the same, right?’

‘Aren’t we all when we go into a store?’ Tuckwell said pragmatically. ‘Don’t stereotype!’

‘Not me, I’m in, gottit, out – boom! Anyhow, so Sunday afternoon, I sit in the car, she swears blind she’ll be back in five minutes – and I reckon on turning that into fifteen. So twenty pass. Then twenty-five. The Grand Prix’s about to finish and the store’s about to close and I’m annoyed, so I go in to find her – and she’s not there. Like, gone.’

‘Walking back to your car?’ Tuckwell suggested.

Paternoster shook his head. ‘I look everywhere for her and there’s no sign. I call and text her – no response. I WhatsApp her, no reply. She’d done this once before, after we’d had a row, she bumped into a friend in a store and got her to drive her home. So eventually I drive home and she’s not there. Next morning, she’s still not home – I call the police. They come round to the house and I can see immediately they don’t believe me. The next thing, I’ve got some bigwig detective and his flunkey from Major Crime rocking up.’ He fell silent.