He crosses the street to walk in the sunshine and heads back to his boat via the station. As he passes, he spots Bex, Kate’s best friend, on the crowded platform, all big hair and chunky shoes. He likes to chat with her even if the feeling is far from mutual. She’s his last remaining connection with Kate. He didn’t cherish Kate enough, according to Bex. It’s not easy when you’re broke. He hasn’t seen Kate since she left hospital. Since she shacked up with her tech millionaire.

‘Alright?’ Bex says as Jake approaches.

‘Off on holiday?’ he asks, glancing at her wheelie case.

He suddenly feels like a hick in his canal clothes that smell of diesel and woodsmoke. There was a time when he was on this platform every morning in a suit, commuting up to London to work as a crime reporter. Kate used to complain that he’d turned feral, become more interested in spotting otters than writing bestsellers.

Bex nods awkwardly.

Is she going to see Kate? ‘Somewhere nice?’ he prompts.

Their conversation is even more stilted than normal. He’s only two years older than Bex, but he feels disconnected, out of touch.

‘London,’ she says, without conviction. ‘Friend of a friend.’ With that, she raises her eyebrows and turns to the train that’s just pulling in.

Back at the narrowboat, Jake steps on board, ducks down below and opens the small package at the galley table. There’s no note, just a memory stick. He checks the printed address label again and looks at the postmark: East London.

Why was Bex being so weird?

He slips the stick into the USB port of his old laptop and clicks on the new icon. A video file appears. He leans in closer, watching the grainy CCTV footage that’s already begun to play.

It takes a few moments to realise that the woman sitting at the bar is Kate. She’s on her own, looking at her phone. Jake glances at the date in the bottom right corner of the screen: ‘10.05 p.m., 14 February’. He shudders at the memory. In the other corner it says: ‘Bluebell 2’. The only Bluebell pub he knows of is on the way to Swindon. A barman comes over and starts up a conversation with Kate. Jake stares, transfixed, as the barman turns his back, fixes a bright orange drink and passes it to her. An Aperol spritz, her favourite.

The image judders and the CCTV feed is now looking down on Kate. Jake watches the scene play out again from the new angle. ‘Bluebell 3’. It’s like trying to spot a magician’s sleight of hand. And then he sees it. There. A definite pass across the top of the glass, just before the barman slips in the ice.