‘I thought we could start in the city centre,’ I say, training my eyes on the horizon rather than on Dominic as the landscape flattens out towards Essex. ‘I’m going to guess folks will fall over themselves to talk about reopening the investigation after all this time. Warchester’s built on the army, every street is named after a battlefield victory, there’s practically a monument on every corner. Everyone will think they know something, or at least have an opinion—’

‘Why would we bother with that?’ He cuts me off. ‘What’s the point? We don’t even have a camera with us.’

‘You’re not trying to film them though, are you? This is just about talking to the locals, softening up the ground, seeing who knows what and where that might take us. It’s a small place.’

He laughs, strident over the baby’s cries. I let blush spread over my cheeks. All the better he thinks I’m stupid. He’ll feel the need to explain himself.

‘I just thought—’

‘Listen,’ he says, spreading his hands on the table as he leans towards me. ‘If you’d actually spent any time there, you’d know the place is covered in filth. The first sign you’ll see out of the 196station is Welcome to Essex with the E and S scraped off. Walk for ten minutes, and you’ll arrive on Butt Road, complete with adult emporium on the corner, no less. If Warchester’s built on the army, then the army’s built on sex.’

I close my eyes as the woman starts to cry over her baby’s screams. It’s the light, I tell myself. Look at the sun and you’ll burn, Rach whispers into my ear. I prod her away, poking at my eyelids as Dominic curses in the background.

‘Coffee,’ I hear him say, trolley brushing past my leg. ‘Black … cheers. And could you get that young lady with the baby back there whatever she wants on me? Sounds like she could use it … Here you go … Thanks, boss…’

My eyes fly open into the jangle of loose change.

‘What?’ He frowns at me over the rim of his cup. ‘Did you want something?’

I stare at him, dimly aware of a steaming cup of tea being handed towards the misery in the back corner, followed by a bag of crisps.

‘Well?’

‘No,’ I say, blinking away sun spots. ‘I just—’

‘It sounded like it might help,’ he interrupts. ‘That’s it. No more, no less. Shall we get back to your primary-school plan of action upon arrival?’

He smirks as I blush, for real this time.

‘The only thing I need from this trip,’ he says, looking out of the window, ‘is corroboration that Minchin was being protected from the inside. Something that isn’t from the police.’

I hold my breath as he pauses for a sip, landscape scudding past in a whirl to my right.