‘There you go.’ Jazz handed him a glass and Tom wheeled himself into his usual position to the left of the fireplace. ‘To you, darling. Congratulations.’

‘Thank you. What for?’

‘For making a brave decision and re-entering the fray.’

‘Don’t congratulate me yet. I’m still not convinced I’ve done the right thing. I wanted to paint, Dad.’

‘I know, sweetheart. And yes, you may well have turned out to be the next Van Gogh. You’re certainly talented, but I’ve always wondered whether the lifestyle would have suited you. You’re very cerebral, darling, and sociable. You need constant stimulation and I find it hard picturing you alone in a garret, penniless and starving.’

‘You mean I’d have cut off my ear, then eaten it,’ she grinned.

‘You were brought up to be practical.’ Tom smiled, his eyes twinkling. ‘At least your police career has had a point; not that art is pointless, you understand. But in spite of what you’ve always said about the ineptitude of the criminal justice system, for every four crooks you’ve lost, you’ve managed to put one away. In my book, that makes it worthwhile.’

‘The glass half empty or half full scenario, you mean?’

‘Exactly. And of course, the other point is, even though I joke about Norton having a soft spot for you, he does believe in you. He must do. He knows you’re an asset he can’t afford to lose.’

‘Well, I just wish he could have made it a little clearer at the time.’

‘Then perhaps your sabbatical won’t have done you or him any harm. And remember, it’s much harder to swallow your pride and stick your head over the parapet than it is to turn tail and run away to save face. Now, how about some more of that wine?’

‘A small one, Dad. You know what the doctors say.’

‘And I say it’s red and renowned for lowering cholesterol, therefore it’s medicinal.’

Jazz reluctantly topped up his glass.

‘You know, darling, your mother and I weren’t sure you’d made the right decision when you upped sticks and headed off to Hendon to become a bobby just a few months before getting your degree.’

‘Yes, Dad.’ Jazz rolled her eyes. ‘I remember.’

‘We thought you’d done it for all the wrong reasons.’

‘We all know I did it because of what happened to you, Dad. Does that make it right or wrong?’

‘Both,’ said Tom. ‘You’re hot-headed, just like your old dad. You make decisions on the spur of the moment—’

‘Which serves me well in my current profession.’

‘Exactly. Which brings me neatly to my point: the good Lord rarely steers us wrong. Perhaps the shooting was all about getting you onto the right path.’

‘Oh Dad, I’d prefer the wrong path and you healthy. But yes, I admit the past few days have been . . . challenging. And it’s good to be back.’

‘Especially without him around?’

‘Yes.’ Jazz’s face became closed.

Tom knew not to pursue the conversation. He changed the subject. ‘So, how’s life in Salthouse?’