‘Ugh,’ Freya says, putting the phone down. She turns to Mina, who’s sat resting her head on her hand, staring at the screen. ‘Coffee?’

‘Please.’ Mina sits up and rubs her eyes. ‘You’re going to be glad to get back to Butler, after working for Sergeant Smudge here,’ she remarks. Freya had told her about their night out on Wednesday, and the nickname given by his friends.

‘I like working for Butler,’ Freya replies, taking her mug. ‘You don’t get stuck doing this shit, for a start. Anyway, you know him. You were in training together.’

‘Yeah, but that was before,’ Mina replies. Freya knows she’s referring to his sister’s death and how Robin had changed, retreating into silence and an ever-worsening bad temper.

‘He’s much better now,’ Freya replies.

‘Must be your influence,’ Mina says, with a raise of an eyebrow.

‘Really, Mina,’ Freya laughs. ‘Stop trying to matchmake. Especially with Robin Butler. I’m happy being single.’

She takes their mugs off to the kitchen, and as the kettle boils, she thinks about what she’s just said. She isn’t, not really. She doesn’t mind being alone; she has plenty of friends to go out with at the weekend if she chooses, and work keeps her busy, but she misses that closeness. The sharing of secrets, the warm body to keep her company on the sofa.

But if it was down to that, then it would be Robin. They have their fair share of secrets between them, and more often than not it was him she would be sitting watching television with. No; she missed a strong arm around her at night. Legs wrapped together. Full body hugs and snogging.

She looks out into the incident room, at the rows of desks and detectives. Josh has arrived back and is laughing with one of the DCs as he takes his coat off. She watches him: the wide grin, the laid-back manner. It’s raining outside, and he ruffles his dark hair with his hand, trying to get the water out of it. Josh Smith is attractive; she’ll give him that. But does she want to go out with someone from this world?

Being female in the police force is hard enough. It has moved on from the blatant discrimination of the past, but some of the sexism remains. And sleeping with a colleague comes with stigma. Shagging your way to the top. Slut, tart, police bike. Slurs that are never applied to the men.

She gets another mug out of the cupboard and makes him a coffee, too, then awkwardly carries the three hot drinks back to their desks, plonking them down and shaking her burning fingers.

She gets a broad smile from Josh and finds herself grinning in response.

No, she tells herself, stop thinking of him like that. Just no.

‘Anything from the parents?’ she asks.