‘Why would I do that?’

‘So you could talk to people with similar experiences and get some reassurance. That’s what those organizations are for.’

‘You’re not being very helpful, are you?’

‘Actually, I think that’s exactly what I’m being.’

Ben was glaring at his phone now. But he couldn’t keep it up. He had to smile when he pictured his brother doing the same at the other end. This was the way their arguments always started.

‘I can tell you’re not in the right frame of mind at the moment,’ said Matt. ‘You must have had a bad day, or something.’

‘As a matter of fact, it wasn’t such a bad day – until now.’

Of course, he didn’t really mean that, but there was almost a set script between them when they got to this stage. Matt knew it as well as he did.

‘Oh, right. Sorry to have bothered you, I’m sure. I suppose that means you won’t want me to share any information I manage to find out from Dr Joyce tomorrow?’

‘You’ll suit yourself, Matt. It doesn’t matter what I say.’

There was a muttered swear word, a crash of something falling over, and silence. His brother had gone.

Ben found his eyes focusing straight ahead. And there was Sergeant Joe Cooper, gazing out from his place in the second row, among all those other solemn-faced police officers lined up in their best uniforms to have their photograph taken.

It was odd, really. He’d spent so much time thinking that his life had been dictated and overshadowed by the legacy of Joe Cooper. Everyone who’d known his father said how alike they were. Here he was doing a similar job, in the same place, and often dealing with the same individuals that Joe Cooper had encountered.

Sometimes it had made Ben feel as if he was a clone, a walking carrier of his father’s gene pattern. He hadn’t seriously considered what he might have inherited from his mother’s side, or which of her chromosomes he’d been allocated during conception. Her hair colouring, yes. The eyes, maybe. But what else was lurking in his DNA that he’d never been aware of? What genetic predispositions might he be carrying, that he risked passing on to future generations? Both of his parents were part of his nature. And he didn’t regret it. But the feelings stirred up by that thought had become equivocal.

He switched his attention away from the photograph to the Richard Martin print of Win Hill on the adjacent wall. The landscape normally brought him back to earth when he got too preoccupied. Literally back to earth.