Freya scratches her nose for a second, not sure how to reply. Josh laughs again, taking her pause as confirmation. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry. I never know how to play it. Too chummy and no one gets anything done, but too harsh and everyone thinks you’re a wanker.’

‘Baker said you were a DS in Newcastle?’

‘Yeah, and nobody liked me there either.’ He smiles and takes a long pull on his pint. ‘Did you get any further with the CCTV?’

Freya shakes her head. ‘Nothing more than the few images outside the station. Where did you go this afternoon?’

‘I went to see the woman you were speaking to. About the freezer?’

‘Oh, no,’ Freya laughs.

‘Yeah. She was just as hard work in person. But I worked my irresistible charm and got there in the end.’

‘And?’

‘She’d sold it. Couldn’t remember who to. Dead end,’ he finishes. ‘So, tell me about you, Freya West? What’s your story?’

‘Not much to tell.’

‘I don’t believe that. Are you from around here?’

‘Grew up in Salisbury, then went to university in Southampton and stayed.’

‘What did you study?’

‘Law.’

‘Really?’ Josh sips his pint, smiling. ‘And you didn’t want to be a solicitor?’

‘I worked as a paralegal for a few months, then realised that it was the policing side I was interested in.’

‘So you joined the force?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Married? Single?’

Freya laughs. ‘I feel like I’m being interviewed!’

‘You’re avoiding the question, Ms West,’ Josh says, leaning across the table and adopting a mock-detective style. ‘You don’t fool me with your beautiful blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. What are you trying to hide? Hmm?’

‘Single,’ Freya grins. ‘Married to the job. Happy now?’

Josh smiles back. ‘Definitely.’

Freya’s caught off guard by his flirting. She feels herself getting flustered, her face going red. She’s used to banter around the station. Direct insults, fine. But this is new.

‘So why did you move down south?’ she asks, keen to change the subject.

‘For love,’ Josh replies. Freya raises her eyebrows in surprise. ‘What?’ he enquires in response.

‘You don’t seem the type, that’s all,’ Freya says.

‘What? To uproot my whole life, move hundreds of miles down the country, for a woman I hardly knew?’

‘When you put it like that, yes.’

‘How do I seem then?’ His words are confrontational, but his manner is light, accompanied by a smile.

Freya’s cheeks flush again, and she regrets getting into this line of conversation. ‘Just…’ She points to the pint in his hand, already half gone. ‘A bit of a lad.’

He reluctantly smiles. ‘That’s not wrong. What she said, too.’

‘So what happened?’