But she had her flat, a job she loved and was good at, and until six months ago there had been Piers Tarrant. They had been so close to love, although neither of them ever spoke the word, but she knew how much he had enhanced her life. He had left the Special Investigation Squad to join the Met’s anti-terrorist branch, and although much of his present work was secret, they could relive the old days when they had been colleagues. They used the same language, he understood the ambiguities of policing as no civilian ever could. She had always found him sexually attractive but knew that an affair would be disastrous while they were colleagues. AD was intolerant of anything which could damage the effectiveness of the Squad, and one, or probably both, of them would have been reallocated. But it seemed to her that the years of working alongside each other, the shared danger, disappointments, exhaustion and successes, even at times the rivalry for AD’s approbation, had so bound them together that, when they became lovers, it was a natural and happy confirmation of something which had always existed.

But six months ago she had ended the affair, and she couldn’t regret her decision. For her it was insupportable to have a partner who was unfaithful. She had never expected permanence in any relationship; nothing in her childhood and youth had ever promised that. But what for him had been a bagatelle had for her been betrayal. She had sent him away and she had heard and seen nothing of him since. Looking back she told herself that from the start she had been naïve. After all, she had known his reputation. The break had happened when at the last moment she had decided to attend Sean McBride’s farewell party. It threatened to be the usual boozy affair, and she had long outgrown farewell parties, but she had worked with Sean for a short time when she was a detective constable, and he had been a good boss, helpful and without the then all-too-common prejudice against female officers. She would put in an appearance to wish him good luck.

Fighting her way through the crowd, she had seen Piers at the centre of a raucous group. The blonde who was winding herself round him was so scantily dressed that the men had difficulty in deciding whether to focus on her crotch or her breasts. There had been no doubt of their relationship; this had been a trophy lay and they were both happy to demonstrate it. He had seen Kate through the gap in the close-packed jostling crowd. Their eyes had briefly met, but before he had time to break through and approach her she had left.

Early the next morning he had arrived and the break had been formalised. Much of what they had said was now forgotten, but disconnected snatches still echoed in her mind like a mantra.