Sean always offered to go to the spare room after they’d had sex, knowing her sleeping habits very well. Last night Rhona hadn’t wanted him to desert her, and it had been obvious how much that had pleased him.

The previous evening, her intention hadn’t been to stay late at the jazz club, but she’d become captivated by watching things develop between Danny, the young jazz guitarist, and Chrissy. Eventually, realizing just how late it was, she’d got ready to leave, only for Sean to offer to walk her home, if she would stay a little longer.

Rhona had been intent on going over the notes she’d taken at the locus despite what she’d told Chrissy, but suddenly Sean’s company had seemed preferable to that. Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe because a faint sense of dread still beset her when she thought of entering the flat alone late at night.

It was a feeling she’d hoped would eventually fade, and for the most part it had. But today’s excavation had stirred up such thoughts again. So she’d agreed to wait a little longer, had ordered up another glass of wine and had watched as Chrissy and her latest conquest left together.

It had been, Rhona realized, like the night she’d first met Sean. Not a jazz fan herself, she wouldn’t have chosen to spend time in the club had it not been for Bill having his birthday party there. When the tall, dark-haired Irish musician had asked if he might join her at the interval, Rhona had gladly agreed, because she’d wanted them to get together as much as he obviously did.

Rhona had discovered fairly soon after their first coupling that Sean’s way of dealing with the world was pretty much the polar opposite of her own. Chrissy said he was a keeper, but Rhona had never been certain of that. There was always a posse of available women with an eye for the saxophonist, and she had decided early on in their relationship that Sean was probably playing the field.

Much like herself.

Rhona definitely wasn’t looking for a life partner, and most of the time she liked to live alone. Despite this, Sean had always been there for her when she’d needed him most. Particularly during the sin-eater case.

‘So,’ Sean had said as they’d eventually headed out onto Ashton Lane. ‘What did you think of the open mic night?’

There had been five participants, all probably good, but to Rhona’s ear, most jazz was impenetrable.

‘I liked Danny and his guitar the best,’ she’d said honestly. ‘And that’s nothing to do with Chrissy’s interest in him,’ she’d added with an amused smile.

‘I think it was definitely mutual.’ Sean had caught her eye at that point, reminding her, Rhona knew, of the evening they’d first met.

They’d walked on then in companionable silence, crossing the wide tree-lined Kelvin Way still busy with groups of students, either heading home or perhaps only now going out for their evening’s entertainment.