Kate gathered her jacket and bag and left the cafe. As she made her way down the road, a man crossed a little way in front of her. For a brief moment she caught his face and thought it looked familiar. But then he turned away and headed into the pub. Where had she seen him before? Tall, with a horseshoe moustache. She shook her head, couldn’t remember. Not wanting to miss her train, she hurried on.

Janković walked slowly through the pub, looking around methodically, not finding what he was looking for until he came into the snug. He stopped in the doorway. A fire was lit against the cold and Justin Holmes was holed up at a table, alone, working on some paperwork.

Justin looked up as Janković unzipped a pocket on the front of his damp leather jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it and laid it over the paperwork on the table.

‘What are you doing here?’ said Justin, taken aback.

Janković tapped the sheet of paper and Justin looked down, even while knowing what it was. There, printed out, was his resignation letter. His second resignation letter.

‘I thought we’d been through this,’ said Janković.

‘I quit.’

‘Not possible. You are a highly valued member of the company.’

‘What if I just left?’

‘We’d find you.’ Janković smiled. ‘Why the sudden change of heart? Has something happened? Someone been in touch? A new visit from a newspaper?’

Justin tried to keep his voice steady. ‘No.’

‘Only, you know you are supposed to let us know. If there are any.’

‘There hasn’t been.’

Janković sat back languidly in his chair, arms outstretched so his fingertips reached the table. ‘You were not meant to find out. And as you did, you will have to stay in employment. You’ve had a pay rise, a significant one.’

‘It’s not—’

Justin stopped talking as Janković suddenly stood. He moved away from his chair, walking around the table until he was behind Justin. Justin made himself sit still, not turn around. Suddenly an excruciating pain seared the back of his neck, accompanied by a sickly burning smell. Justin leapt up, clutching his neck in agony. ‘What the fuck!’

Janković was standing behind him, a red-hot ember pinched in some tongs. Justin backed away as Janković replaced the ember on the fire.

‘Job for life!’ said Janković. Then he turned and left the pub.

THIRTY-TWO

Saturday, 11 February 2017 – thirteen days before the accident

It had been several days since Becky had had her lunch with Adam and he still hadn’t called. At first, she’d been amused, it served her right if he was making a point after she’d given him a fake number all those months ago. She deserved payback. But after the first weekend had been and gone, her amusement gave way to a mild indignation that steadily grew as the days passed. Why hadn’t he called? Was he playing hard to get? Had he lost her number? She knew she should’ve typed it straight into his phone.