As the young man wandered off down the bar, Chris was doing her best not to laugh out loud.

‘Penny-farthings and coal mines!’

‘You know,’ he said, finding himself kissing her on both cheeks, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt so old!’

Her face was warm, and she smelled of perfume and wine.

‘Anyway, how are things going?’ she said, as if they’d known each other for years.

He stopped, thought about it, then realized that he was far too close to her.

‘I’m, well—’ he stuttered, taking a half-step backwards, ‘in the last thirty-odd hours I’ve had one hour’s sleep, one meal, and been kicked off a murder inquiry. Two, as good as.’

Her eyes widened.

‘How did that happen?’

‘A new team has taken over the inquiry, different police district. I was literally in the wrong place at the wrong time. The second murder, I don’t know whether you heard?’

‘Yes, it’s terrible. And now you’re not involved?’

‘I’m still on the first one.’

‘But not the whole thing? That must be frustrating. It’s getting pretty high-profile,’ she said, nodding to her phone, which was sitting on the bar in front of her.

‘Have you been following it?’

‘Not really. But I’m old enough to remember the Yorkshire Ripper. A serial killer really grabs people’s attention. Can you imagine the Ripper now, with social media?’

He shook his head.

‘It’s gotta be three for a serial killer. This one’ll be behind bars before then.’

She took a long drink from her glass, which was now almost empty.

‘Shall we change the subject? You must be sick to death of the whole thing!’

Her hand sprang out, grabbing his forearm.

‘God, did I just say that? Let’s talk about something else.’

‘Good idea. Do you want another?’

‘I can wait for you.’

He considered the full pint of Bitter that had just arrived on the bar for him.

‘This won’t take long. Let’s get another round in. I need to unwind pretty urgently.’

‘I’m all for that!’

For an hour they sat at the bar and went through the script. Potted biographies woven discreetly into a loose, non-committal sort of conversation. It was supposed to be an interview, but they both forgot that quickly enough. They talked naturally, calmly, nothing strident, a lot of stepping softly around each other’s opinions, feeling their way tentatively towards each other. She was modest about the classes at the library, but also rather proud, he suspected. Teaching people to do something for themselves. It was all so logical, the way she described it, so generous and practical.