The big day was still three weeks away but the city was already gearing up for it. This year Aidan and I had made plans to spend it with his parents in Spain. The flights were booked and I was really looking forward to it. Usually we stayed home and had my mother round, but she’d made arrangements to spend Christmas with her best friend Sylvia who lived in the New Forest.

Mum had also arranged to come round to our house this evening and I’d completely forgotten. It wasn’t until I walked in and saw her sitting at the kitchen table that I remembered.

It was six o’clock and Aidan had already sorted the dinner – cheese-filled jacket potatoes – and he’d even poured me a glass of white wine.

‘You forgot I was coming, didn’t you?’ Mum said as I leaned over to kiss her. ‘I could tell from your face.’

‘It’s your imagination,’ I said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.’

She grinned and I wondered why I ever bothered lying to her. She could read me like a book.

I took off my coat and gave Aidan a quick cuddle.

‘Looks like you’ve had a tough day,’ Mum said. ‘Is everything all right?’

I’d decided on the way home to adhere to Drummond’s instruction and not to mention the threatening message, at least until the techies had spent more time looking into it. It was best they didn’t know. Mum, especially, would be unnerved by it.

‘We launched a new investigation this morning,’ I said. ‘That’s always a bit stressful. It means reading lots of files and attending long, drawn-out meetings.’

‘Aidan’s been telling me about it, and I saw your boss on the news,’ Mum said. ‘I’m really proud of you, Laura, and I know your father would be too.’

As she spoke I could see the glint of unshed tears in her eyes. The mere mention of my father always provoked an emotional reaction even after all this time. She had never really come to terms with his death and that was why she hadn’t been able to move on. She wore grief like a chain around her neck and the weight of it showed on her face.

She was fifty-eight but looked much older. Her eyes, which peered out through thick-rimmed glasses, had lost their sparkle, and her skin was stretched too tight across her bones. It was as though the life had been sucked out of her.

I walked over and gave her another kiss on the forehead.

‘It’s nice of you to say that, Mum. It means a lot.’