Josie finishes her coffee. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That’s all it was.’ But there’s a pause that makes Robin lean forward, trying to catch Josie’s eye.

‘Josie?’

‘It’s not important.’

‘It is important. Finn’s in big trouble, and now he’s rambling about some dead kid. If there’s something else, we need to know. We need to tell DI Craig.’

Josie pauses again, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then she frowns.

‘Josie?’ Robin pushes again.

‘Oh, Robin, let it go,’ she exclaims. ‘You remember those camps, there were loads of you boys. Finn didn’t even know him. Jacob died. They all had to come home early. That’s it.’

‘That’s it?’ Robin repeats.

Josie pushes her coffee cup away. ‘Yes.’ She looks at Robin sternly. ‘Now, are you happy? I need to get back to Finn.’

Josie stands up and walks out of the canteen. Robin stays behind.

He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s stone cold.

Is he happy?

No, of course he’s not sodding happy. His best friend is in hospital, arrested for murder. He’s an alcoholic. And now he’s rambling about some dead kid from twenty-nine years ago.

He turns the coffee mug around in his hands, thinking back. What else happened that summer? He remembers the interminable sunshine, the smell of sun cream, the squeals from neighbours in their paddling pools, almost mocking as he sat, sulking, in his cast. Shutting the curtains to stop the sun reflecting off the television as he watched the cricket. He doesn’t remember some kid dying, or maybe… does he? Glimmers of memory cut through. A blonde kid, playing football. Flowers and candles and tributes around the pavilion. Mothers talking in low murmurs on street corners. And Finn?

He reaches down and pulls the medical notes that Craig left with him out of his bag. He flicks through, looking for something earlier than adulthood, but there’s nothing. Finn’s medical records begin the moment he turned eighteen. But there was something. Finn didn’t start back at school with him that September. Robin’s dad had told him that Finn was ill. But with what? His mind’s a blank.

Josie’s words had been final: there was nothing to Finn’s strange proclamation. Nothing to link the death of a kid all those years ago to Simon Sharp. But she had seemed off, her tone dismissive. A denial that was almost overcompensating, hiding a truth she didn’t want to share.

They are the closest people Robin has to family, but his intuition still applies. After twenty years spent interviewing people, he’s certain he can trust his gut, and he knows one thing for sure.

Josie is lying.

26