‘So.’ He sat back. ‘How did it go this morning?’ My dad knew what Friday morning meant as well as I did.

I held out my arms. ‘Good news,’ I said. ‘Well, good news for you at least, because the section is still in place.’

‘Listen, love—’

‘I’m not going anywhere . . . and don’t tell me you’re planning to sit there looking like a wet weekend, as if you’re disappointed for me. Can you honestly tell me that isn’t what you want?’

‘You’re not being very fair.’

‘Best place for me, right?’ I nodded towards Ilias. ‘Stuck in here with the likes of him.’

Dad puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. ‘Come on, Alice. Even if I do think that now . . . how does that mean your mum and me don’t want you home and don’t want you better?’

I looked away and stared at the wall for a bit, done with a conversation we had in some form or another every time he or my mother visited. It was never going to go anywhere.

‘Oh . . . Jeff and Diane from next door. They wanted me to say hello. Pass on their best.’

I turned back to him. ‘You told them I was in here?’

‘No, but they were over and they asked how you were doing and your mum was getting a bit flustered. I told them you were having your appendix out.’

I laughed a little bit and so did he.

‘So, come on then.’ He leaned forward and he actually rubbed his hands together, silly old sod. ‘What’s been happening, then? That funny woman still trying to do things to your feet?’

‘She’s gone.’

‘What about the one who’s always waiting? Or that woman who sings?’

I just stared at him. I suddenly realised that my dad hadn’t got any idea what had happened since the last time he was here. About Kevin’s death and my investigation. It seemed amazing to me because it was so massive, but he didn’t know a thing about the murder, the drugs, any of it.

So I told him.

He looked appropriately shocked to begin with and he was nodding like he was interested, but slowly I saw his face change, saw it . . . crease a little, like it always did when he was worried. So even before I’d finished I knew what was coming and knew exactly what that tone of voice would be. I’d heard it when I was fifteen and started going out with a lad who was three years older. I’d heard it the first time I told him I was thinking of joining the police.

‘Listen, love . . .’

I tuned out straight away. Some variation on the same tedious is this really a good idea? toss they’d trotted out in the MDR. Same warnings I’d had from Marcus and Bakshi and even from sodding Banksy.