The small glass table doubling as a bedside and dining table; ashtray, cutlery, crumpled trousers, Scotch bottle …

‘Well, you could always let me sleep with you?’ He beamed.

‘Yeah, right,’ she said flatly, ‘and you could get yourself somewhere proper to live. There’s nothing to stop you. Your house was sold ages ago. You’ve been here months.’

‘I keep telling you it wasn’t my house. Never has been.’

‘Well then. If it never was your house, waiting for it to get sold never had any bearing on you getting sorted out, did it?’ She was angry and upset. He knew he’d outstayed his welcome – it was unfair to put her through this, what with the kid and everything. And tomorrow was a big day for her, he knew. She was anxious on top of everything else.

‘Don’t worry, you know it’ll be fine – I’m telling you.’

‘You don’t know for sure. I don’t know why you’re so confident.’ She regarded him with consternation. ‘Anyway, it’s not just that – it’s you. I don’t want to kick you out, really I don’t, but it’s the only way you’ll ever get yourself together.’

Frost frowned and picked up his flattened pack of cigarettes off the makeshift bed. ‘Don’t you worry, love. I’m sorted … nearly.’

‘Jesus, Jack, are you or aren’t you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Sorted?’

‘Almost.’ Frost scratched his unruly beard.

‘Define “almost”.’

From across the kitchen table, Waters appraised his friend and colleague. Granted, Frost appeared marginally fresher, with an unfamiliar smell of soap about him and hair that had glanced at a comb; but the huge bags under his eyes were an indication the man hadn’t had a decent night’s kip in a long time. Unsurprisingly.

The big sergeant tutted. ‘Seriously, Jack, you can’t just go from couch to couch any more. You’re not a bloody teenager.’

‘Well, I’d be all right, if flamin’ Hornrim Harry hadn’t kicked me out the police digs on Fenwick Street.’ Frost flicked ash angrily at the large blue crystal ashtray. He missed, sending the cinders skittering across Waters’ fiancée’s highly polished table instead.

‘You know why he did that, man,’ Waters said gently, not wishing to rake over old ground. ‘I’m not saying I agree, but you know Mullett’s a stickler for what he sees as proper conduct.’ Waters shook his head. When he’d moved into this place – his fiancée’s – they’d offered his old lodgings at Fenwick Street to Frost. It had all been fine at first. Then there was the carry-on with Suzy Fong and her pals, impromptu parties and playing unorthodox games of Twister into the small hours (something he’d preferred to watch rather than participate in). Then the complaints from the two female occupants … He sighed and looked sadly at his pal, sitting hunched across from him, staring into his mug of heavily spiked coffee. Of course it had all reached Superintendent Mullett’s ear and, quite rightly, he’d had to do something. Frost’s antics set a bad example to the junior policemen and Mullett knew it. In truth Frost knew that too; his anger was shielding a sense of shame. And here he was now, slumped and half-stale from Sue Clarke’s couch.

‘So what have you got lined up, in an “almost” type way?’

Frost smiled slyly. ‘As of today I’m house-sitting and pet-minding for a friend.’

‘Really?’ Waters was surprised. ‘What friends you got that would (a) let you loose in their home, and (b) trust you to look after their cute and furry ones?’

‘I’m keeping an eye on the Jade Rabbit for a fortnight,’ he said proudly.

‘You are kidding me, man! Old Fong must be losing his marbles; you corrupt his daughter then he leaves you in charge of his restaurant?’

‘Suzy and I are just good friends.’

‘Yeah right.’ Waters scratched his head in mock confusion.