‘His annoyingly beautiful long hair that’s better than any woman’s I’ve ever seen?’ Rachel joked. ‘No offence, Anna.’

‘None taken. I’d shave it all off and give it to myself if I could.’

‘Funny you should say that,’ Martin began, clearing his throat. ‘Because the girl I’ve been seeing wants me to shave it.’

‘What!?’ came the resounding echo from the entire table.

‘Why does she want to do that?’ Chey asked.

But before Martin could reply, Rachel stepped in and said, ‘Whoa, hold up, hold up. There are a couple of points we need to discuss. Firstly: girlfriend? Since when?’

‘No. Not girlfriend. Girl I’m seeing.’

‘Cut the shit. It’s the same thing. How long’s this been going on, and why haven’t you told us?’

‘Because… I guess I just haven’t thought to.’

Tomek thought he knew why. Martin was one of the newest additions to the team, having joined at the same time as Victoria, and a part of him had felt left out, slightly ostracised by the team as he’d struggled to wriggle himself through a crack in an already close-knit team. It was only natural that he hadn’t felt comfortable enough to share intimate details of his personal life with them yet.

‘You have to tell us,’ Rachel continued. ‘We have a right to know. We’re a work family.’

For the first time in a long time, Tomek saw a smile on the man’s face.

‘Tell us everything,’ Anna insisted.

‘Her name’s Lauren. She works in digital marketing, lives in Leigh-on-Sea, and we met… we met online.’

‘Lovely,’ Rachel said as she leant across the table and stroked his arm lovingly. ‘I’m pleased for you. Do you like her?’

Martin turned shy, like a schoolboy. ‘I think so.’

‘Have you met the family?’

‘Yeah.’

A chorus of “oohs”, highly emphasised and over the top came from the entire table.

‘Must be serious,’ Chey said.

‘Yeah, but her dad’s an arsehole.’

‘That’s because dads are arseholes,’ Tomek said. ‘I’m the same with Kasia. Overprotective. And it’s my job to embarrass her and everyone else that comes into her life.’

Thoughts of Roy Whitaker flashed into his mind.

‘Thanks for the advice,’ Martin said.

‘Speaking of advice,’ Rachel started, ‘what’s this with the hair thing? Why does she want you to cut it?’

Martin looked at the table and began drawing a circle with his finger on a beer mat, his ponytail serendipitously falling over his left shoulder. ‘She just doesn’t like it. Says it’s too long. Was only fashionable in the seventies. Thinks I should shave it all and send it to charity.’

The deflation in Rachel’s shoulders was visible. She placed both hands on Martin’s and looked him in the eye.

‘Do you know what I say to that?’

‘What?’

‘It pains me to say it, but I think you should know. That’s what families do. They tell us when things are going well and when things are going bad. But fuck that bitch. Nobody should make you feel less about yourself. If she doesn’t like it, then she can find the door. You need someone who wants you for you. And not just someone who’s going to mould you in their own image. Nuh uh.’

‘Fuck that bitch,’ Martin replied. He said it so quietly, so calmly, that Tomek almost didn’t hear him. ‘Yeah. Do you know what? You’re right. Fuck. That. Bitch.’ Then he downed the rest of his pint, slammed the glass on the table, and said, ‘Right. Who wants another? Next round’s on me. And I’m in the mood for doubles.’

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Tomek felt embarrassed by how much his head was pounding the following day. Now he knew how Johnny Whitaker had felt for the past week, drowning his sorrows at the end of a row of bottomless drinks. Tomek had told himself that he would only stay for one – Martin’s round – but one had turned into two, two into three, and then by the fifth he’d been forced to walk home. Kasia, to her credit, hadn’t given him any sympathy as he’d stumbled through the door at the still respectable hour of nine o’clock, nor as he’d emerged from his bedroom, having overslept, the following morning. He wasn’t twenty-one anymore, and he was fooling nobody if he thought he could keep up with Chey and Rachel, who were considerably younger than him. The walk to the pub car park that morning had felt like the walk of shame, each step reminding him of the hangxiety, anguish, and regret. Stepping through the office, however, his emotions brightened slightly as he realised everyone else was also just as worse for wear. Rachel’s hair was loose and untidy, her make-up even more so. Chey was slumped in his chair with a large two-litre bottle of water resting under his chin, waiting to be consumed at any moment. Martin was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and Sean had a packet of paracetamol beside his mouse, which, from the looks of it, had been emptied by the rest of the staff.

‘Morning, team!’ Tomek bellowed loudly on purpose, to a chorus of groans.

He suddenly felt a lot better. And on the balance of things, he was probably the least hungover out of everyone. Maybe he could pretend to be twenty-one again after all.

‘Trust we all had a good night’s sleep, but we can’t let ourselves get complacent. We⁠—’

‘Tomek,’ Sean interrupted weakly. ‘I love you and everything, but shut the fuck up.’

Before Tomek could respond, the landlines in the office rang. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rachel and Chey cup their ears and turn away from the phones. After a few moments, nobody had answered, and nobody looked willing either.

‘I’ll get that then, shall I?’

Tomek reached for the nearest phone and answered it.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi,’ the voice said. ‘It’s Sharon. Is one of you able to come down? There’s a woman here who’d like to speak to someone about the Angelica Whitaker case.’

‘Did she say what it was about?’

Tomek could sense Sharon shaking her head. ‘No, sorry.’

‘No problem. I’m on my way down now. Tell her I’ll be two minutes.’

Tomek’s immediate thought was that the woman who’d stolen Angelica’s heart from Xanthia and Emilia Solveig had come through the doors – they had so far been unable to find the mysterious welder from The Nights of Eden parties – but it wasn’t that at all. The woman who had entered the police station that morning was in her sixties. Sylvie. Small, petite, with professionally- styled, bleached blonde hair. She wore light make-up on her face and was dressed smartly. She looked as though she had been attractive when she was younger, and after years of continuing to look after herself, she still looked attractive now.

‘I hope I wasn’t interrupting you from anything,’ she said.

‘Not at all,’ Tomek replied. ‘We’re always happy to help. What was it you came in for?’

Tomek had prepared a box of tissues on the table in case whatever she wanted to discuss was raw and painful and would bring a multitude of emotions to the surface. She ripped a tissue from the box and began playing with it, more as a form of comfort than for the removal of any tears.