Bromley.

She couldn’t think of anything worse than ending up living here in one of these drab pebble-dashed houses, trapped in a nine-to-five existence, slowly dying inside from the sheer monotony of it.

She tried to shake off the depressing thoughts. Maybe it had been a mistake coming to her parents’ house for Christmas. Maybe she should have just stayed at home in her flat in Crystal Palace.

The sound of the song ‘The Power of Love’ by Huey Lewis and the News suddenly blared from her trouser pocket, breaking the stillness of the upstairs landing. A committed fan of eighties power ballads, Bailey had changed the ringtone of her mobile phone to that of the 1985 number one hit in a moment of idle boredom the previous day.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she saw that the name flashing on the screen was that of Detective Superintendent Frank Grinham, her sometime boss who she’d worked for on numerous undercover operations in the past.

Knowing him as she did, she couldn’t imagine he was calling to wish her either Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday.

There was only one reason he’d be contacting her, and that would be to present her with the opportunity of fresh undercover work. A way out. And with that tempting possibility in mind, she answered the phone.

‘Don’t you ever take the day off?’ she said.

‘Christmas is just a day like any other.’

‘You’re at the office, aren’t you?’

There was a sheepish silence. She could visualise him right now, dressed in his grey suit, yellow tie and buffed black Oxfords, sitting in front of a computer, tapping away as they spoke.

She was glad to hear his voice though. It had already started to lift her out of her gloomy introspection.

‘I know it’s a bit soon since the last one finished, but I’ve got a new job for you,’ he said.

She hesitated for a few moments. It had been around five and a half months since the operation in the prison had come to an end, and following a little time off recuperating from that experience, she’d been back in the office working in her regular role as a normal detective constable.

‘I’ve been concentrating on trying to pass my sergeant’s exams,’ she said. ‘So I don’t think I’ll be able to do any more undercover jobs for the time being.’

Working undercover for as long as she had meant that she’d let her career stagnate and she’d reluctantly realised that advancing up the ladder would probably be beneficial in the long term. Although there was no denying that she missed the rush that came with undercover work, she’d talked herself out of taking on any more undercover jobs until she’d sorted out her career. However, if she was to be honest with herself, her heart wasn’t really in it – the slow diligent slog up the greasy pole. It all seemed a bit too much like normal life, just the kind of thing she was trying to avoid.