‘Pierce has loaned me her clothes, in case you were wondering.’

‘Very smart, ma’am. A different look for you, but you wear it well. Funny, I just saw Security chase a bare-arse naked crazy woman resembling Pierce out of the building.’

Despite herself, Archer smiles. ‘Harry, could you lend me your phone, please?’

He unlocks the device, hands it across with her house keys. ‘I grabbed these from your coat before it was bagged. Against the rules, but let’s keep that our secret. Don’t want to get into trouble with my DI.’

Archer hasn’t given her keys a second thought and is relieved to have them. ‘Thank you.’

Her stomach flutters as she calls Grandad and is relieved to hear his tired voice brighten when he hears hers.

‘Grace! I was just thinking about you.’

‘How . . . how are you?’ she asks.

‘Happy now that I’m talking to you,’ he replies.

Archer smiles to herself, sits on the side of the bed, and tries to sound upbeat. ‘How’s your day been?’

‘Oh fine. I went to mass and bumped into Cosmo. Remember Cosmo? We play chess together sometimes, not so much these days.’

‘Yes . . . I remember.’

‘We thought we’d go to the King’s Tavern for a pint and a bit of lunch and a game.’

She pictures him going about his business, meeting his old chess-playing opponent, and is mesmerised by the pleasant mundanity of his day, a day that is the polar opposite of her own.

‘That’s nice, Grandad . . . nice.’ She hears a quiver in her voice that she tries to suppress.

He pauses before speaking. ‘Grace, are you OK?’

‘Yes . . . I’m fine . . . sorry . . . long day.’

‘I understand.’

‘Did you have dinner?’ she asks, eager to not stir any more suspicion.

‘Just a sandwich and the last of the wine from the hamper that fella sent to me . . . the nice chap . . . I can’t recall his name . . . my memory isn’t what it used to be . . . what was his name . . .’

Archer’s hand caresses her sore neck. She tries to change the topic. ‘How is Cosmo?’

‘The fella that just bought Eileen’s house. Wait . . . didn’t you meet him at the hospital?’

‘Grandad, I’ve got so much on. I just wanted to check in.’

‘No rest for the Old Bill, eh?’ he chuckles.

‘That’s right,’ she replies quietly.

Grandad pauses before responding. ‘Grace, are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Yes . . . a hundred per cent. Listen, I won’t see you tonight and wanted to warn you I had a little accident at work . . . erm . . . a cut to the hand and a split lip. It’s nothing. Just don’t want you to be shocked when you see me.’