Ben’s reply had been a thumbs up, and then a comment about her amazing taste in men. And although she didn’t feel she needed him to be here to watch out for her, she was glad that he was on his way.

The first sign she had of any movement from the Reakes house was the sudden bright red illumination of the Jaguar’s tail lights. It was followed afterwards by the throaty growl of the engine, and the car began to manoeuvre. Niall must have left the house while she’d been focused on the other car. Was he alone?

Hanson picked up her phone and called Ben.

‘We’ve got movement,’ she told him. ‘The Jaguar again.’

‘I’m just about to turn into the close,’ Ben answered, his voice a little distant over his car’s Bluetooth.

‘You might want to hold off and tail him,’ Hanson said.

‘Are you definitely OK there with the mystery driver?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got my baton and my stab vest,’ she said, only half joking. ‘I should be fine.’

The Jaguar had finished its turn out onto the road, and as it came level with Hanson she was granted a clear view of the driver. It was Niall Reakes, and he was alone.

‘Looks like you’ve just got Niall,’ she told Ben. ‘Which means Louise is still in the house, with our mystery driver still at large. I’d definitely better stay put.’

‘OK,’ Ben said. ‘I’ll let you know where he goes. Keep me posted on events there.’

Louise had thought that she needed music. At every other low point in her life she had played. When her mother had died. When her father had suddenly flipped from neurotic overprotection and moved to the other side of the world, as if determined never to see his daughter again. Louise had got through it all with music.

As the door had finally closed behind Niall, she’d made her way to the music room and gone to her chair. She’d drawn her harp towards her and leaned its reassuring weight onto her shoulder. Her hands had found their positions for the start of the Donizetti.

And then she’d thought once again of the first time she’d played for Niall, and she faltered. She found herself replaying conversations with him. And, seamlessly, those thoughts turned into words she might have exchanged with Alex Plaskitt. Whole conversations she might have had with him, at the bar of Blue Underground.

Minutes later, she was still sitting where she had been, a heavy feeling in her chest, and her hands equally heavy on her lap. The only music she could hear in her head was the pounding beat of a dance track, drumming its way into her memory two days later.