‘Policing is a noble profession, sweetheart,’ he told me when I announced my intention to enrol on leaving university. ‘But as you and your mother know only too well it’ll take over your life. So you need to be one hundred per cent certain that it’s what you want to do.’

‘It is,’ I said.

‘In that case you’ll have my full support. But promise me one thing, Laura. You’ll always be true to the oath you’ll take at the outset. If at any time you feel you can’t, then pack it in and go work in a shop or a factory.’

He made a point of telling me that, because my first six months on the job coincided with a relentless wave of negative publicity for the police.

Corruption within the Met was being exposed on an almost weekly basis, and a lot of new recruits like myself became disillusioned.

But for me the scandals served only to strengthen my commitment and my resolve to be a good, honest copper like my father.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been aware that the Met in particular was infested with officers who were on the take. While at university a report was published that claimed there’d been a sharp increase in the number of officers dealing in drugs and abusing their power for ‘sexual gratification’.

I’d since discovered myself that the force did indeed have its share of bad apples, but most officers walked a straight line and were a credit to the profession.

Of course, being above board and serving with distinction did not make it less likely that you’d come to harm in the line of duty. My father found that out the night he opened his front door to a man who shot him three times in the chest.

Seven years on – with the killer still out there somewhere – the memory moves me to tears and gives rise to a blast of anger.

It’s only about two miles from the Old Bailey to New Scotland Yard. But the traffic was murderous so it was slow going in Kate’s pool car.

She took us via the Victoria Embankment and there was gridlock for much of the way.

We were passing under Waterloo Bridge when my mobile rang. It was Aidan.

‘I gather congratulations are in order,’ he said. ‘I just heard it on the news. You must be pleased.’

‘I’m over the moon,’ I said. ‘We all are, which is why we’re going to the pub for a celebration drink.’

‘You deserve it, hon. Have a great time.’

‘Are you home already?’

‘No, I’ve only just left the school. I’ll grab a takeaway. Do you want me to get something for you?’

‘No, don’t worry. I’ll sort myself out.’