They walk in silence towards the hospital canteen, the two of them at a ceasefire – a necessity, given the circumstances. Robin’s afraid to talk or to mention their argument. Slowly, they make their way down the queue, Josie picking up toast and butter and marmalade, Robin grabbing coffee for them both.

He pays and they take a seat on the far side of the room.

It’s busy, just past ten a.m., people needing sustenance to get on with their day. Robin looks around while Josie eats: nurses, doctors, some patients in dressing gowns sitting at the tables.

‘You want any of this?’ Josie asks, pushing a slice of toast across to him. ‘I don’t seem to have much appetite nowadays.’

Robin takes it. No point letting food go to waste.

‘Do you remember when you were teenagers? Can’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen,’ Josie says. ‘And you’d both appear on a Sunday morning, completely hung-over but trying desperately to pretend you weren’t.’

Robin smiles. ‘We thought we hid it so well.’

‘And you’d have slept in Finn’s room on the floor, for some reason, rather than walking two doors down to your own house.’

‘Georgia always gave me hell for getting pissed. You were more understanding.’

‘So that was it.’ Josie smiles at him. ‘I owe you an explanation, Robin. About what happened with Finn that summer at Scout camp.’

‘No, no, not at all. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I searched your loft.’

She manages a laugh. ‘I never thought that would happen. A police detective breaking into my house.’ Josie takes a sip of her coffee, then places it down on the table, staring into it. ‘Honestly? I thought that if you knew what happened, it would make the situation worse.’ She shrugs. ‘Guess it doesn’t matter now. He’s no longer under arrest, did you know?’

‘I wondered. I noticed the room guard had gone.’

‘Yes, this morning. DI Craig came by. She said that in light of the new evidence they were going to recommend a verdict of accidental death. That Simon had done it to himself.’

‘That’s something,’ Robin replies.

‘Hmm.’ Josie thinks for a second. ‘Finn was there, you know. When Jacob Fraser died. He saw it all.’

‘What happened, Josie?’ Robin asks quietly.

‘I don’t think they ever knew. Jacob was allergic to bee stings, but he carried an EpiPen and all the Scout leaders knew how to use it. But they were in the middle of nowhere, and the EpiPen didn’t work. That poor kid was done for even before the ambulance arrived.’

Robin’s coffee has gone cold, but he drinks the last dregs anyway, waiting for her to continue.