‘Liberated, hungry and a little bit sad. Hey, that’s quite a sharp point you’ve fashioned your rock into.’

‘Yeah, quite a weapon, isn’t it? Do you want to borrow it and plunge it into your dad’s chest?’

‘No, that would be pointless – he hasn’t got a heart. I would stick it right up his arse; that would hurt him more.’

‘Don’t worry about finding a place to sleep. You can stay at mine for as long as you want.’

‘Thank you. I worry about Tommy, though. He’s bound to turn up again.’

‘I don’t think you should. Remember, I’ve got three locks – yes, three locks – AND a chain, an actual chain.’

Emily laughed and gave me another friendly kiss.

‘Shall we stay here tonight?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I think we should.’

We booked into a small hotel just off the seafront. It was a twin room with separate beds. Neither of us made a move on the other but it did feel like our first night together as a couple. As we sat watching the TV and eating a bucket of KFC, I received another message from Peterson’s lackey asking me to arrange to meet him. I was more than happy to make him wait.

In the morning we drove back to London slightly giddy at our blossoming connection. I didn’t ask her if we were now boyfriend and girlfriend, but it felt like we were. We arrived around midday and approached the flat with military-style caution. Once inside, we went straight to bed for a nap. An hour or so later we were disturbed by a loud knocking on the door. We hid under the covers until we heard the visitor walk away. Emily guessed it wasn’t Tommy because he would have ranted and raved and probably tried to break the door down. My phone rang again and I let it go to voicemail. It was Detective Bailey advising me to report to Peckham Police Station to give a statement regarding Brendan’s murder. He apologized for the fact that if I didn’t attend, then the investigating officers would have to call at my house to interview me.

I needed to talk this over with someone and, as I no longer had any worries about Emily’s motives, decided to unload on her. I told her about Cowley and Wilmott and about McCoy coming round in search of the dongle. She asked me where the dongle was now and I told her it was safely hidden away from the flat and as far as I was concerned would remain forever ‘lost’. I didn’t tell her that I had seen the contents of the document and that it mentioned her name. She didn’t need any more worry in her life. We concluded that the best course of action was to stick to the lost dongle story.