A cafe would be better than anything they’d find in the hospital, and cheaper. As was his habit, Simon scanned for CCTV as they walked down the High Street and was reassured to see one pointed in the cafe’s direction. The eatery itself had a green and white striped awning, only half extended, and the name of the establishment, along with a subscript: better than hospital food.

‘They aren’t exactly selling it, are they?’ he murmured.

‘What would you do to improve things?’ Jaq said with a laugh.

‘I’d add a word. Miles… miles better than hospital food. That would work.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Jaq said and strode confidently into the cafe, looking neither right nor left.

Simon was certain she was taking in way more than him, though. In answer to her enquiring look, Simon selected the table by the window where, apart from reflections, they were most likely to be captured by the camera.

Jaq sat with her back to it and said, ‘Really, even here you made sure you’re surveilled? Why this obsession to be filmed?’

Simon had never been asked this question before, and he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

‘Same as with my house, the CCTV keeps me safe.’

‘How? How on earth does it keep you safe? Believe me, as a detective, they’re really useful, but only for figuring out what happened after somebody is attacked or murdered. It doesn’t prevent crime.’

‘No, but if something happens… if somebody goes missing, I will have proof that it wasn’t me.’

Jaq blinked at him, clearly flummoxed by his interpretation.

‘But you don’t have to worry today. I mean, you’re out with a cop.’

‘Yeah, but what if something happened to you? With my record, I’d have the entire Met come down on me like a ton of bricks.’

Jaq laughed.

‘Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen to me.’

Simon wished he could feel as confident and blushed to have his anxieties exposed. To prevent having to say more, he looked over to the counter on the far end and examined the chalkboard listing the dishes of the day.

‘What can I get for you, loves?’ A middle-aged plump bottle blonde said as she strolled over, pen and paper in hand.

‘I’ll have your all day breakfast please,’ Jaq said with enthusiasm.

‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, and orange juice.’

‘Toast or fresh?’

‘Toast.’

‘Crusty or…’

Simon’s mind wandered as the waitress went through her interminable list and he had to be called back to attention to give his order.

‘Ham and cheese toastie,’ Simon said, for want of any other options.

‘With or without salad, love?’ the woman asked.

‘Without,’ Simon said, then wondered whether Jaq might make a comment about him not eating vegetables. Fortunately, the waitress didn’t give time for that as she asked, ‘and to drink? Tea, coffee, soda?’

‘Tea,’ Simon said, and the waitress nodded, then ambled away to deliver their order.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon, the cook didn’t have anyone else and was gazing out at them through his little hatch.

‘Mmm, this is nice,’ Jaq said as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. ‘There’s something very homely about a cafe, don’t you think?’

Simon looked over the pale green formica-topped tables, Lino floor and tourist posters of Crete on the walls and said, ‘I suppose they are all quite similar in appearance.’

‘I guess I just like them from childhood. My family would often land up at a cafe after the Saturday morning shop. Mum said she couldn’t face making lunches for everyone after she’d spent a hellish morning shepherding us through the supermarket. How about you? Do you like cafes too?’

Simon examined Jaq’s face, trying to work out whether she was digging for information or had just asked as a throw away conversation piece.

‘Um… the first time I went to a cafe was when I was 18,’ he said, aware this would remind her of his past, which he didn’t want.

Her suddenly more alert expression showed that she’d realised this too.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

Her apology surprised him, and he shrugged. ‘Dr Nobel took me on an outing so I could get used…’ he paused, looked around and lowered his voice. ‘So I could get used to living outside.’

‘Was she your therapist?’

Simon nodded.

‘Eighteen, huh? I don’t even remember the first time I went to a cafe. What did you think?’

‘I don’t really remember. I was a bit nervous.’

‘I guess that’s understandable. Do you remember what you had?’

‘Cherry pie and custard,’ Simon said, surprised that he remembered that.

‘You and Doctor Nobel?’

‘And Peter the Cheetah.’

‘Who?’ Jaq said with a surprised laugh.

Simon checked again that the waitress wasn’t listening, and said, ‘He was one of the guards. He usually went along when the guys were given their first day pass from the young offenders’ institution to make sure nobody ran off. Peter was faster than all of them.’

‘I have a feeling he didn’t have to chase you.’

Simon assumed that was because Jaq thought he was a weak-willed wimp.

‘I was so scared I was shaking from head to foot. Peter spent most of the time keeping me upright.’

There, now she had the truth and, if anything was needed to make a strong woman like Jaq back away, it would be that. Her face showed no disgust though, and her neutral expression turned to one of delight as their food arrived. Jaq’s breakfast turned out to be doubles of everything, the eggs, sausages, bacon, toast, mushrooms and beans. The sight of all of that food alarmed Simon.

‘Are you sure Sarah is alright?’

‘What?’ Jaq said, thrown by the question.

‘You said you were a stress eater and that,’ Simon said, waving at the overflowing plate, ‘is a lot of food.’

‘She’s fine, I promise.’

‘That’s good. I really don’t want to take over her role.’

‘Why not? Don’t you want a promotion?’

‘Do you?’ Simon said, although the question was unnecessary.

He was pretty sure Jaq was ambitious.

‘Of course I do. But not all the way to the top. I want to do the work I trained for, solving crimes. I don’t want to go into management.’

‘Same here. If you move into management, you do less design work and more people management, and that isn’t what I care about.’

‘There you go,’ Jaq said as she sliced into a juicy sausage, ‘we have something in common.’

That pulled Simon up short. Had Jaq been looking for things that made them compatible? He doubted they’d have much in common.

‘I hope I didn’t call you away from anything urgent.’

‘Not at all,’ Jaq said, swirling a piece of toast in an egg yolk. ‘In fact, you rescued me from the tedium of paperwork, which I was happy to leave to my partner.’

‘So you solved that case… with the school?’

‘Not entirely to my satisfaction. I can’t tell you much, but let’s just say no mastermind was found, although even Darren now thinks it’s a possibility that there is one.’

‘Who?’

‘Darren, my partner.’

‘Oh… well, I hope you find him, if he does exist.’

‘You think he’s a man?’

‘Wouldn’t he be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jaq said, skewering a slice of bacon and wobbled it about in Simon’s direction. ‘It’s best not to jump to conclusions and to remember that women can be master manipulators as well.’

***

Jaq’s conversation with Simon had piqued her curiosity and she mulled over what she knew, dodging sightseers, as she walked along the Thames heading for the restaurant Rob had booked. She’d been so worried about the fact that Simon had a record that she hadn’t really thought about his life before and during that time. All she’d known was his father had used Simon as bait to lure women in.

She’d also worked out that the father had made his son paranoid enough to ensure he had witnesses to everything he did, albeit the glassy eye of surveillance cameras. Now the new information that the first time he’d been to a cafe was when his therapist took him to one at the age of eighteen. So what had his father been doing with his son in the meantime?

So many questions and she had access to his record and the court proceedings so she could learn all about it. Despite this, she kept putting off taking a look. It was a typical push pull effect. She was wildly curious as a cop, and as a person but also scared about what she’d find out and how that might change their relationship.

Although relationship was straining the definition. They knew each other. They had interacted on a couple of occasions. She’d even slept over, something she didn’t even do with a one-night stand. Yet, she kept her emotional distance, unwilling to get too close.

She could say the same for Simon. More so. He made no moves to encourage her at all. He’d probably be glad if he never saw her again.

Or would he? She’d have been certain if he hadn’t approached her at the art gallery and rescued her from the tedium.

She’d gone intending to scope out the talent. Sarah had promised a multitude of wealthy CEOs. It turned out they were either married or arrogant bores or both. And all the while, she’d been dodging Rob. Fortunately, he’d been too busy schmoozing VIPs to notice her.

But now she had to see him for one last time. He’d invited her to dinner in his usually non consultive way of sending her a date, time and venue and asking if she wanted to join him. So she would, but this would be the end.