Josie’s disapproval is seared into his mind. He wishes he could do something to put it right, but he knows things have gone way past that. And still, the undesirable fact is that he wants to know what happened. Why would Finn say that anything to do with Jacob was his fault if it isn’t true? Is Josie protecting Finn? And what does it have to do with Simon bloody Sharp?

He rubs his eyes, gets up and makes another coffee, then has a shower. When he’s dressed, he sends a quick text to Freya – Are you up? – but gets no response. He puts his shoes on and leaves the hotel.

The massive Tesco across the road is open, and he wastes half an hour buying random food for breakfast, plus two coffees from the shop next door. Then, back at the Premier Inn, he knocks on her door.

She answers, up and dressed, and takes the coffee eagerly.

‘I’m sorry for falling asleep in your room,’ Robin gabbles immediately. He offers the plastic tray of pink-sprinkled doughnuts as an apology.

‘You’re forgiven,’ she smiles, selecting one. ‘Although I’m starting to take it personally. Is my company really that dull?’

She perches on the edge of the bed, eating the doughnut delicately, holding it between two fingers. He sits on the chair, doing the same, but with less success.

‘I promise, it’s nothing to do with you,’ he replies.

But actually, it is.

When he’s with Freya, he relaxes. There is none of his usual worry: the social awkwardness he has around others. She’s seen him at his worst, all pretence gone – so his unconscious lets him sleep. He realises with a start that she’s probably the only person, apart from Liam, with whom he feels this way.

She finishes the doughnut, then sips her coffee. He notices that her case is already packed; next door, his is the same. He offers her another doughnut.

She shakes her head. ‘Let’s keep them for the journey,’ she replies.

This time, the 120-mile drive from Devon to Hampshire is quiet. Robin is more solemn; the holiday feeling has gone. Going home hasn’t been nearly as bad as he imagined – confrontation with Josie aside – and he resolves anew to return and sort that dratted storage unit out. The box of photo albums lurks in the boot.

They pass Exeter Services and hit the A35 without event. Freya looks out of the window, softly singing to a song on Radio 2 that Robin’s never heard before.

‘Freya?’ Robin says, and she turns. ‘This wasn’t exactly the break you were after, was it?’ She looks at him blankly. ‘I mean,’ he continues, ‘you needed some time off, and all I did was drag you into more bloody police work.’