Jazz saw the sign for Cambridge and, on a whim, turned off and headed in the direction of the hospital.

Tom was down on a ward now, sitting up in bed, chatting to his next-door neighbour.

‘Jazz, darling.’ He threw open his arms to her and she hugged him, feeling his skeletal frame through his pyjamas. ‘How’s my favourite girl?’

‘I’m good, Dad, very good.’ She sat down in the chair next to him, studying his hollow cheeks and still-grey pallor. His eyes, though, were clear and twinkling with life. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m alive, my ticker is still ticking, if rather erratically, so that doctor keeps telling me, and very glad to see you. Mum told me all about the case.’ He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m terribly proud of you.’

‘Thanks, Dad. Do you know when they’ll let you out?’

‘Next week sometime, if I behave myself and eat up my beta-blockers like a good boy. Can’t wait actually.’ Tom lowered his voice. ‘They’re all bloody senile in here, shout out in the middle of the night. Be far better at home with your mother, in my own little bed.’

‘You are not to come out until the doctors say that you can, Dad,’ Jazz chastised. ‘It’s not fair on Mum, apart from anything else. You know how she worries.’

‘I do, but hospitals make you sick. They’ve been dropping like flies in here,’ he whispered.

‘I know, Dad, but you are still in the best place, really.’

‘Anyway, enough of me. I want to hear about you. What’s the next thing on the agenda?’

‘The kitchen’s nearly finished, I have a new bathroom suite, and the painter actually turned up yesterday.’ Jazz gave a small clap of pleasure.

‘Yes, yes, very nice,’ agreed Tom. ‘But I mean life-wise, darling.’

‘Well,’ said Jazz slowly, ‘I’ve been asked if I want to meet the commissioner next week, with a view to heading up a new Special Ops department in East Anglia.’

Tom was impressed. ‘That’s rather an honour, isn’t it?’

‘Well, Norton would see it as a step down from working at the Yard, but I would be more or less autonomous.’

‘No boss to kowtow to, because you’d be it,’ acknowledged Tom.

‘Yes. A big fish in a much smaller pond.’

‘So.’ Tom studied his nails. ‘Have you decided yet?’

‘No. I told him I wanted to think about it,’ said Jazz. ‘A few months ago I’d left the force and was going to do something completely different with my life. What do you think?’

He looked at her and smiled. ‘You know, one of the things I’ve thought about in here is the fact that during your life, I may have influenced your decision-making process far too much. Because I’m too sure of my own advice, and . . . because I love you so very much.’ He reached out his hand to her, tears forming in his eyes. ‘Therefore, on this occasion, I’m going to keep shtum. You must do what you think is right. And that’s all I can say.’