‘True.’ Robin takes a large gulp of his shandy. ‘So why would Finn say it was? And why bring it up now?’

‘He’s ill, Robin,’ Freya replies. ‘Who knows what’s going on in his head.’

Robin pulls the menu out of the stand on the table. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks, desperate to change the subject.

‘Starving,’ Freya says. ‘That sandwich barely touched the sides.’

They choose food: Freya going for fish and chips, Robin for a burger. Freya goes up to the bar to order and comes back with more drinks.

‘I saw Steph on Wednesday,’ Freya remarks, when she’s back at the table. ‘She asked about you.’

‘How was she?’

‘Good,’ Freya replies. Robin feels her staring at him. ‘What happened between you and her? Why did you split up?’

‘Wow.’ Robin shakes his head wearily. ‘You know how to kick a man when he’s down.’

‘Thought it might distract you. Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

‘First Sandra last night, now you. No. What makes you think that?’

She shrugs. ‘Just wondered what brought on your new lust for life. All this running and stuff.’

‘I go for a jog now and then. It’s hardly triathlons, like Steph. And where would I meet this mythical woman? The only place I go to is work.’

‘Exactly why Steph was so right for you.’

He looks at her, quizzically. ‘Why?’

‘Shared interest. Mutual ambitions. Same awful working hours.’

‘Turns out our ambitions weren’t so mutual,’ Robin says to his pint. ‘Steph wants kids. And soon. That’s why we broke up.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘I… well, probably. But after the twins died…’ He leaves the sentence unfinished. He knows Freya will understand what he’s saying. That after his two-year-old nephews were killed, he couldn’t bring himself to be that open, emotionally, again.

‘And what about Olivia Cross?’

‘I went to see her.’

He can see Freya’s surprised. ‘And?’

‘Neither confirmed nor denied. Jury’s still out. It’s probably not mine.’

‘And if it is?’

‘Christ, Freya. What’s with the inquisition?’ She shrugs and he feels bad for snapping. ‘I don’t know,’ he replies, quieter this time. ‘I’ll deal with that problem when it comes to it. And yes, I know,’ he adds quickly. ‘She’s due any day.’

Their conversation dissolves into silence, and Robin’s glad when their food arrives. They dig in ravenously, Robin covering his burger with a generous dousing of ketchup. Quiet music plays in the pub; people start to arrive as the weekend comes to a close.

‘You want to hear something funny?’ Freya says, through a mouthful of battered cod.

‘Please. Yes.’

‘Josh asked me out.’

Robin’s head snaps up. ‘Josh who? Not Josh Smith?’

Freya nods, mouth full.

‘And?’

She swallows. ‘By text. I haven’t replied.’

‘What? You left him hanging?’ Robin laughs. ‘Savage. What are you going to say?’