This was new territory for her and she knew she must learn to tread carefully.

‘More complicated than it first appeared, but then, that’s normal,’ she answered noncommittally.

‘You’re in Norfolk temporarily?’ he asked.

‘No, it’s a permanent move. I love it here.’

‘It’s an amazingly raw county, no prettiness about it. Jazz.’ Jonathan’s hand moved across the table towards hers and grasped it. ‘Look, this sounds slightly forward, but I’ve enjoyed tonight a lot. Can we do it again? I mean, I haven’t got round to asking you those questions yet.’

‘I . . .’ Jazz felt disconcerted, not sure what to say, out of touch with the protocol of romance.

Before she could begin to formulate a reply, she noticed a horribly familiar figure enter the small bar. He was smiling broadly at her and heading towards their table.

‘Jazz.’ The familiar soft Irish burr assaulted her ears. Patrick. Her ex. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look wonderful!’

As his arms closed around her shoulders, she was aware of the familiar smell that, after ten years of intimacy, would mark him out to her instantly, even if she was blind.

She sat, not moving, waiting until he unwrapped his arms from around her shoulders and stood upright.

‘And who is this fine fellow you have with you here?’ He stared down at Jonathan, his eyes betraying the lie his lips had spoken.

‘What the hell are you doing here?!’

‘Ah, now, Jazz, don’t be like that. I happened to be coming to Norwich on business, gave Issy a lift up as a matter of fact.’

‘Issy?!’ Jazz’s throat constricted.

‘It just worked out that way. I met up with Miles and our good shrink for supper.’

‘What are you doing here then? In this pub?’ she asked coldly.

‘Ah, now, so sorry to interrupt your evening, but I’m after doing a favour for Norton. He wants to speak to you urgently. You weren’t answering your mobile, but DS Miles knew where you were, so I decided to come personally to give you the message.’

Jazz didn’t have the energy to reply. She saw Jonathan looking very uncomfortable.

‘Better be on my way,’ he said as he stood up. ‘Those roads look icy to me.’

‘They are, you take care now.’ Patrick smirked.

‘I will. Bye, Jazz, thanks for a pleasant evening.’

‘Yes, thank you. I enjoyed it.’ She kissed Jonathan warmly on the cheek.

‘Jazz, will you not introduce us?’ Patrick put a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.

You bastard . . .

Jazz gritted her teeth. ‘Jonathan, meet Patrick Coughlin, my ex-husband.’

‘Right. Bye, Jazz. Be in touch.’ Jonathan then made a hasty, embarrassed exit from the pub.

‘I’m off, too.’ She tried to walk past Patrick but he held her firmly by the arm.

‘Ah, now, Jazz, come on, there’s no need for this, is there? Wouldn’t it be possible for us to be civilised? To sit together and have a drink like the old friends we are?’