But when he turned to her, she’d ignored Cullen’s jibe completely and had gone over to sit down on the low wall by the door. Everyone in the room was now looking at Joe. He wondered whether he should say a few words about employment law. Fortunately, Cullen called for attention and continued his speech, and Joe went to sit next to Rita at the back.

‘You see how much help the constabulary are when it comes to enforcing racial fairness?’ Cullen said. ‘I bet there’s a few people here tonight wouldn’t mind working as cab drivers. It’s still a good living. Steady. Better than Uber, I’ve heard. But the private cab firms are run by Asian families and they never advertise. Never have any vacancies. All the licences are taken. You get a taxi in Batley tonight, or up in Birstall. Who’s gonna be driving you?’

The audience told him exactly who. As the racial epithets grew in number and offensiveness, Joe felt the urge to intervene, if only for Rita’s sake. But when he glanced at her, she gave him a wink. She was loving every second of it.

Sensing that her Batley-Bangladeshi skin was thick enough to take anything the English Patriot League could throw at her, Joe relaxed and checked his messages. Gwyn wasn’t hanging about. He’d scheduled a pathologist’s examination of Craig Shaw’s remains for the following morning. The car was already in safe storage, a forensic inspection booked for tomorrow. Things were moving quickly.

He sat back and let the meeting wash over him.

‘They’ve got a website,’ Rita said. ‘It’ll pass the time.’

He found it easily enough on his phone. The English Patriot League. It had a simple but surprisingly professional layout:

1. WHAT IS THE EPL?
2. ENGLISH PATRIOTISM, NOT RACISM
3. FREE MOVEMENT OF LABOUR? A FAIR IMMIGRATION POLICY
4. CLEAN UP OUR STREETS: CLEAN UP OUR COMMUNITIES
5. DRUGS: THE IRA WERE RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING

Were they? he asked himself as his finger was drawn to the final item: