‘We saw the graffiti,’ Eddie said to his father. ‘On YouTube.’

‘It’s all gone now. Didn’t have to lift a finger myself. People are mostly decent, Eddie. I’ve dug the graves of their loved ones. They’ll pay me back with decency.’

John Conlon looked at Violette for the first time. ‘We’ll take you home,’ he told her.

Bish read the confusion on her face.

‘Eddie and me together,’ Conlon said, turning back to his son. ‘It’s where our Jimmy always wanted to go, you know, Eddie. The other side of the world. I bought him an atlas and we picked a place together. And our Jimmy . . . he said, “I’ll get your passport stamped if it’s the last thing I do, Da.” ’

This time Violette did cry. ‘It’ll mean everything to my grandparents to see Eddie. Everything.’

Bish felt as though he was in a fishbowl. Their little group in the car park surrounded by a circle of police, surrounded by the press. All wanting a glimpse of these kids’ lives. Soon afterwards, Violette was saying goodbye to Charlie, just as the Crombies were parking a smart car.

‘If their snogging entails tongues and saliva, one of you is going over to stop them,’ Grazier said, approaching Bish and Elliot. ‘I’m fucking traumatised by those Instagram accounts.’

But there was no snogging. Just the pair of them holding onto each other with all their might. Bish was a bit touched.

‘Oh God, she’s coming this way,’ Grazier muttered as they watched Reverend and Arthur Crombie striding over to them.

‘Right-o,’ she said. ‘Who’s in charge here?’

Bish and Elliot pointed to Grazier.

‘We’re taking that boy to see his mother,’ she said firmly, pointing to Fionn, who was being wheeled around by Eddie as if the chair were a shopping trolley. A subdued Charlie took over and wheeled Fionn towards them.

‘That won’t be necessary, Reverend Crombie,’ Grazier said politely. ‘I’ll take him myself.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. ‘Come on, boys.’

‘Reverend Crombie, I’ll be taking Fionn,’ Grazier said.

‘Well, you’re just going to have to arrest me then,’ she said. ‘Who has the authority to arrest people around here?’ She looked at Bish.

‘Unfortunately I can’t, Reverend Crombie, because I’ve been suspended from the police force.’

‘And they can’t because they’re spooks,’ Charlie said, pointing to Grazier and Elliot.

‘We work for The Home Office,’ Grazier said.

‘Yeah, so does MI5 and they can’t arrest people,’ Charlie said.

‘We’ve watched the show,’ Mr Crombie said politely.

‘Then I’ll come along with you.’ Grazier’s politeness was now forced. He handed Bish his car keys. ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘What about my job?’ Bish asked.

‘Fuck your job, Ortley. Just resign without fanfare. That’s what the Met wants, by the sound of things.’

Bish had always imagined this moment feeling like a bandaid being ripped off his hairy leg, but suddenly realised he’d been slowly peeling it off since he was suspended. The bomb and Noor LeBrac and her kids and her brother had changed everything. But he would miss his job. And he wished he could walk away on his terms.