So, Simon Sharp was allergic to nuts. Steph said they can run further tests to confirm that, as well as the resulting anaphylactic shock. But Robin’s finding it hard to come to terms with the idea that he might have slit his own throat. And that Finn saw it all? What a horrific thought.

Robin can’t imagine how terrifying that would have been: to be trapped in the middle of that raging storm, watching as your friend bled out in front of you. No mobile phone signal, no way of getting help, as Simon Sharp collapsed and died.

It all makes sense now: Finn’s words in the hospital. It was my fault. They know from the video that Finn handed Sharp the sandwich that killed him. And the allergic reaction must have stirred something up in Finn’s disturbed consciousness, remembering Jacob Fraser all those years ago.

‘Did Steph say any more about Finn’s prognosis?’ Freya asks. Her voice is hesitant and gentle.

Robin shakes his head. ‘They won’t know any more until the morning.’

‘Oh. And how are things with Josie?’

‘You saw her, Freya,’ he replies, sharper than he intended. ‘She hates me. And I don’t blame her.’

‘She needs time.’

Robin clenches his jaw. He’s fucked up so many times this week, but his relationship with Josie is probably the worst. He feels the familiar tightening of his throat and he stares, determinedly, at the road. He will not cry. He won’t.

‘I should have known Finn was drinking,’ Robin mutters.

He hears Freya turn in the seat next to him. ‘Sophie didn’t even know, Robin. Or Josie.’

‘But I should have noticed he was struggling. I should have been a better friend.’

‘Robin,’ Freya says softly. ‘If even his girlfriend and his mother hadn’t realised what was going on, why should you?’

‘I hadn’t seen him since February. What sort of a friend was I?’

‘Rob, I have friends I haven’t seen for years—’

‘But your supposed best friend?’ he interrupts.

‘I’ve only seen Mina’s new baby once,’ Freya says. ‘Sometimes that’s just the way life is. You’ve had a lot going on. You have a busy job.’ She pauses. ‘You can’t be blamed for Finn being sick.’

‘But brain damage, Freya? Fucking permanent brain damage?’ He stops, forcing himself to take a long breath in. He clears his throat before he speaks again. ‘What a mess.’

‘I know,’ Freya murmurs in reply.

They don’t say anything else for the rest of the journey. Freya puts the radio on and Robin’s glad of the music filling the deathly silence. And he’s grateful to Freya, too, for just being there.