Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Locked In / Vigilante / The Woman in Black"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 60 страниц)

Still angry, she first called Cole, making sure she kept her temper in check. She told him that, given the media attention, she was going to return to visit Denise Millar to make sure she was all right and asked if he could pass that on at the station if anyone asked after her. He told her that was fine but said she should try not to take too long. The press office had already phoned him at home because the national media had picked up on the local story and they wanted everyone at the station to deal with the attention.

She hung up and made another call but it wasn’t to the parent of the first murder victim as she had claimed. Instead, she phoned someone she hadn’t spoken to in over a year. After a quick one-sided conversation, she got in her car and drove to the centre of the city, picking up a passenger and then driving back out again and parking in a quiet area at the back of a supermarket car park.

Jessica figured it was best not being seen openly talking to the person she had phoned. She put the handbrake on and switched off the engine, turning to the man sitting next to her. ‘So, Garry,’ she said. ‘How about I tell you what’s really going on?’

13

Garry Ashford shuffled nervously in the passenger seat of Jessica’s car. ‘Hang on a minute, let me get a pen out,’ he said.

He lifted himself up, bumping his head on the ceiling of the vehicle with a muffled clang. He rubbed his skull and fumbled in his trouser pockets before rifling through the ones in his jacket. It was a struggle given the lack of space. Jessica avoided his swinging elbow and intervened.

‘Y’know, Garry, for a clandestine meeting in the middle of nowhere, you’re doing a pretty shoddy job and I’ve not even started telling you what we’re here for yet.’

‘Sorry, you didn’t give me much notice. I was still in bed.’ The man’s straggly black hair had grown since the last time Jessica had seen him and was now a little below his shoulders. He was still pasty and scrawny with a questionable taste in clothes. The journalist was wearing brown cord trousers with a navy-blue jacket that looked like it was made of velvet. Jessica had the urge to touch it but held off.

When she had first called him that morning, she had been pretty angry. Given his outfit and the fact he was a journalist who didn’t even have anything to write with, that fury had evaporated into comical disbelief. ‘Do you want to borrow a pen?’ Jessica reached into the storage area on the inside of the driver’s door and pulled out a blue biro, holding it out towards her passenger.

‘Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.’

‘You do have a pad, don’t you?’

‘Yep, got that.’

Garry took the pen from her and pulled out a notepad from the plastic carrier bag he had brought with him. He tried scribbling with the pen on the front of the notebook, pressing harder and then handing it back to her. ‘Er, this one doesn’t work.’

‘Oh for f– look, do you reckon you can just remember what I tell you?’

‘Yes, sorry. Thanks for your call—’

Jessica cut him off. ‘Did you go to the press briefing yesterday with all the vigilante stuff?’

‘No. We’ve got this new senior crime reporter guy on the Herald. I think he’s some relation of the editor. He was only brought in a few months ago but he always gets sent to things like that now.’

‘What do you do?’

‘Well, since last year, I wasn’t able to get many crime beat stories—’

Jessica cut him off again. ‘How is Dave Rowlands?’

Garry paused for a moment. ‘Who?’

‘I know you went to university together. I checked.’

‘The name doesn’t ring a bell.’

Jessica let it go. ‘Okay, so you were struggling with crime stories. What are you working on now?’

‘Local government correspondent.’

Jessica didn’t mean to but burst out laughing. ‘Oh God . . .’

‘Yeah, I know. It wasn’t my choice.’

‘It sounds awful.’

‘You don’t know the half of it. The reason I was still in bed this morning is that I was at the council chambers until half past eleven last night for some budget vote.’

‘You must have really annoyed someone?’

‘After last year, the stories started to dry up. One of the older guys retired and they moved me over. I get a bit more money but it’s not really worth it.’

Rain started to hammer down on the windscreen and Garry jumped slightly. Jessica thought for a moment about turning on the heater in the car but decided against it. For one, it would take the best part of ten minutes to warm up in any case but she also didn’t trust the battery to start the car again if she tried to use anything without the engine on. ‘You know I shouldn’t really be talking to you so no names, okay?’

‘Of course.’

‘The story you’ve all got this morning is only half of what’s actually going on. The vigilante stuff, that might be true, we don’t really know yet. The corrupt prison officer, that might also be true but again we just don’t know.’

Garry nodded along as she spoke. He had clearly read or seen the news that morning and knew what she was talking about. ‘What you’ve not been told is that we have DNA matches for the first three victims.’

‘You know who did it?’

‘Maybe . . . Sort of . . . Well, not really.’ Garry had a puzzled look on his face and was clearly annoyed at himself for not bringing a pen. He still had the notepad on his lap and was running his fingers along the side as Jessica continued speaking. ‘The labs have tested and re-tested the samples and each time it comes back as a match for someone who is already in prison.’

‘Oh . . . What, like prison prison?’

‘What other types of prison are there?’

‘Er, I don’t know.’

Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, prison prison. You know that giant great bloody building at Strangeways.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Well, what do you think?’

‘Honestly? I don’t know. We’ve been to Strangeways and spoken to the people there. The prison guard that was killed was the head warden on the person’s wing.’

‘Blimey. Is that why you think he was corrupt?’

‘We don’t know. Perhaps – but the point is all the coverage this morning, it’s just not fair. Four people are dead and that’s been lost with all this stuff about them somehow deserving it.’

‘Do you think they deserved it?’

Jessica had been gazing at the windscreen, watching the water run down the outside of the glass, but stopped and looked directly at the person sitting next to her, waiting for him to meet her eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’

Garry nodded as Jessica looked away again, continuing to speak. ‘Craig Millar, the first victim, his mother’s terrific and he’s got a younger brother. Not only have they lost a son and brother but now they’ve got all you lot calling him a shit on the front page. The guard has a wife, Carla. Her husband’s body hasn’t even been released back to her to be buried yet and you are all saying he was bent. It’s not right.’

The two of them didn’t say anything for a few moments, the only noise the echo of the rain falling on the car’s roof and windscreen. Garry broke the silence. ‘Why did you call me?’

‘Because you’re the only reporter I think I can actually trust. I want you to talk to Craig Millar’s mother and ask her about her son. Write something to say these victims are victims.’

‘It’s not my department any longer and, even if it was, I don’t know if my editor would print it. I’m not sure I should really be taking orders from the police either . . .’

‘Fair enough. Look, I’m not trying to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do but you do at least know what’s going on now.’

‘Can you tell me the prisoner’s name?’

‘He’s not been charged with anything so I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘Is he going to be?’

‘I don’t know. I doubt it. If you were on a jury would you find someone locked in a prison cell guilty of a crime on the outside?’

‘Good point. So what are you working on now?’

‘Blind hope that someone somewhere will call that number in your paper today and fill the gaps in for us. Craig Millar was walking home with two brothers that night but we’ve ruled them out. We found some drugs when we raided one of their houses. He’s been charged but they’re terrified they could be next. After them, aside from our guy, we don’t really have much. If we can find another link from him to the victims then we could have something to work on. I think the guard could have been that link and maybe that’s why he was killed but I guess we’ll never know.’

Jessica had told Garry everything she had planned to. The journalist said he would try to speak to the first victim’s mother but that there wasn’t much he could do with the prison information at that time. ‘If you’ve not released it and I don’t have anything else to go on, my editor’s going to think I’m crazy if I go in talking about a prisoner being the prime suspect,’ he said.

Although she realised he was right, Jessica didn’t know what she was hoping to achieve but it was some sort of rebellion against the media campaign her superior had apparently started the previous day. She drove the reporter back to the city centre and dropped him off around the corner from his office.

Over a year ago she had told him not to call her for quotes for his stories any longer but let him know she was lifting the ban. ‘You’ve got my number. Just be discreet if you call, okay?’

Jessica hated driving in the middle of the city on a weekday but the fact it was wet made things even worse. Workers with hoods up and umbrellas being blown from side to side crossed the road with barely a look and the blowers in her car weren’t good enough to keep the windscreen clear. She found herself constantly leaning forwards to wipe steam away from the window and it took her nearly forty minutes to make what should have been a fifteen-minute drive back to the station.

As soon as she turned onto the road the station was on she saw the rows of vans with satellite dishes on top lined up, meaning the rolling news stations were there. She pulled into the station and, although she had seen worse media scrums at the entrance, there were a few reporters being shielded under umbrellas doing pieces to camera.

She parked and dashed across the car park through the station’s front doors. The television that sat in the reception area was usually turned off but was currently tuned into one of the news channels. Across the bottom of the screen were the words: ‘Vigilante: good or bad?’. There seemed to be some sort of debate going on between the host and a couple of guests about whether or not it was ever acceptable to take the law into your own hands. To Jessica it wasn’t that much different from the trashy talk shows she pretended she didn’t watch – except for the fact this was actually masquerading as something high-brow.

The whole of the entrance was wet where people had walked in dripping from the rain. There was a yellow plastic triangle sign on the ground saying ‘caution wet floor’. Considering it was back by the desk, Jessica thought it was probably redundant as you would only have seen it after you had already walked through the puddles. The thought ran through her mind that she could fake a slip and make some spurious no-win no-fee claim about the sign not being in the right place. The few thousand pounds she would hope for could at least tide her over while someone else sorted out this mess.

Dismissing the idea, she nodded to the desk sergeant and made her way through to the main floor, looking for Rowlands. He wasn’t at his desk but DC Jones was sitting at hers. Jessica walked over and sat on the corner of the desk. ‘Have you seen Dave?’

‘I think he’s in the canteen.’

Jessica went to stand up but the constable continued speaking. ‘Hey, is it true you’re off out with some guy from Bradford Park?’

‘I really don’t know how these things get around.’

Jessica had inadvertently given a half-smile though, which her friend had clearly noticed. ‘I hope it goes all right. Are you gonna text me afterwards?’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Jessica walked out of the room, back towards reception and then along the corridor to the canteen.

She saw Rowlands eating at one of the tables opposite one of the female uniformed officers. She sat next to the woman and coughed, making eye contact with the constable, who took the hint. ‘Give us a minute, yeah?’ he said to the officer opposite him. The other female stood up and moved to sit a few tables away.

‘It’s not what you think,’ Rowlands said.

‘Whatever. Look, Dave, let’s just say that hypothetically you had been talking to a certain journalist last year that you shouldn’t have been. Let’s say that I had put a stop to it even though neither you nor that fictional journalist reckoned you had any knowledge of each other. Well, let’s now say that the ban that was in effect has now been lifted.’

Rowlands put down the fork and looked at her. ‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about but, let’s say that I did, is there a particular reason why you have changed your mind?’

‘That doesn’t matter but you should definitely choose what you talk about a little more selectively than last time.’

Rowlands nodded, picking his fork up again and scooping another mouthful.

‘You should be careful eating in here,’ Jessica added. ‘Jason reckons he was once out of action for a week after a dodgy lasagne from this place.’

Rowlands patted his stomach. ‘Yeah, but he doesn’t have my abs. Body’s a temple and all that.’

‘Maybe one of those temples that got bombed during the Blitz. What have they got you working on?’

‘After the briefing this morning, they put most of us doing shifts on the phones for people calling in. The chief inspector has made us take staggered breaks so we have enough people working. I was on for two hours this morning.’

‘Get anything useful?’

‘Mainly just people calling in to say we should give the vigilante a job, rather than try to stop him.’

Jessica sighed. ‘Typical.’

‘There was one woman who asked if we could send whoever the vigilante is round her way to take care of some neighbour causing her problems.’

‘Next thing you know we’re going to have people dressing up as superheroes and patrolling the streets.’

‘As long as it’s one of those girls with the big boots and low-cut tops I’m all for it.’

Jessica shook her head and stood up. ‘Do you know if the DCI is upstairs?’

‘Dunno. He was pretty hyper at the briefing. I’ve never seen him like that. He was bloody smiling.’

‘Christ, the end of the world must really be nigh.’

Jessica left the canteen and went up to Farraday’s office. She could see through the windows he was inside but he was on the phone and held his hand up to indicate she should wait. After a few minutes, he put the receiver down and waved her in. ‘Daniel. How was your morning out?’

‘Okay, Sir. I just thought I should double-check a few things.’

Her superior nodded. ‘Good thinking. I take it you saw all the coverage this morning?’

‘Yes, Sir. It was pretty hard to miss.’

He grinned unnervingly at her. She had seen him laugh and smile before but it didn’t happen often and was particularly out of place considering they had a serious investigation going on. ‘We’ve got a warrant for the bent warden’s house and will be going in shortly. Cole is with that team. I spoke to the labs this morning but they’ve not come up with anything from the body.’

‘Have you heard anything from the prison?’

Farraday laughed as loud as she had ever heard. ‘I had the super on this morning. The governor called him earlier, furious about the stuff in the papers. Apparently he was going on about how nothing had been proven and that it would undermine his staff. I would have loved to have taken that call.’

‘What did the super say?’

‘Not much, just that we’d have to try to keep the media under wraps.’

‘Where do you reckon they got the information about the warden from?’ Jessica was careful not to phrase her question in an accusing way.

‘No idea. Maybe they’re not all completely useless? At least with the information out there we might get a few useful calls in.’

‘What would you like me to do now?’

‘Not much. Finish up whatever paperwork you have then go home and have a good weekend. Calls have started to come in so it’s just a waiting game for now. If this guy’s for real we might get lucky and have another piece of shit off the streets by Monday.’

Jessica said nothing but there was something incredibly unsettling about her boss’s attitude.

14

Even though they were both scheduled to be off work, Jessica phoned DI Cole the next morning. He was with his kids but did tell her they had found nothing of note at Lee Morgan’s house. If the warden had large bundles of cash hidden away somewhere, he had taken the location to the grave. Jessica was glad she hadn’t been a part of that raid. Carla had told her how pleased she was with the state of the house and, having just lost her husband, seeing the search team tear her home apart would have been traumatic.

Jessica had bought that morning’s Herald and there was a small article with Garry Ashford’s byline. It was an interview with Denise Millar where she talked about her son and highlighted a few of the good things he had done in the area. Jessica had to admit there wasn’t much but he did regularly help out with a local youth group. The story was buried on page eleven, behind ten pages of speculation about the apparent vigilante and more debate as to whether or not people should be taking the law into their own hands.

The coverage was difficult to get away from. It was leading local and national television news bulletins and had a presence on the front of every national newspaper. Well, except one, which instead had a nearly topless photo of a reality TV star Jessica only half-recognised.

Jessica texted Caroline to see how her friend was doing but their back-and-forth messages fizzled out quickly, as they always seemed to now. She spent the weekend doing very little, which was unusual for her. Frequently she would end up going to the station on her days off, if only for a few hours, or arrange to meet up with Carrie for an evening out or in. Given the way things were going, she felt as if she needed a couple of days away from everything work-wise – Farraday in particular.

She did some tidying around her flat, something else that was out of the ordinary and watched hours of bad television. Jessica wasn’t particularly in the mood for meeting up with Adam but felt even less like cancelling on him. There was no way she was going to be left on her own waiting for him, so she deliberately caught a slightly later bus on her way into the city centre on the Sunday.

Jessica had texted him the address for where to meet and saw him sitting in the window as she walked from the bus stop. The place they were meeting was a nice cafe Jessica knew next to an independent cinema in an area where mainly students lived. It hadn’t been a particularly sunny day but it was at least still daylight as she walked.

Adam seemed a little glum and was staring at his phone pressing buttons as Jessica spotted him. Jessica did that herself when she wanted to look occupied in a public place. As he looked up and saw her through the glass, his expression instantly changed, realising he hadn’t been stood up.

Because of her mood, Jessica thought it would be a decent idea to meet up with Adam in the afternoon, rather than the evening. It made it appear more like a ‘meeting’ than a ‘date’, ensuring she was unlikely to drink too much wine and end up looking stupid.

Jessica entered the cafe and walked over to the stools where Adam was sitting. ‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hi, I thought you’d changed your mind or something . . .’

‘Nah, just missed the bus.’

‘Oh right, okay . . .’ Adam still seemed a little nervous about looking her in the eye. He was wearing a pair of jeans with a white T-shirt and black blazer. On his T-shirt was an image of a cartoon Jessica remembered from when she was younger. He had clearly made an effort. The stubble from the first time she had met him had been shaved off and his dark hair was clean. ‘Nice place, this,’ he added.

‘It’s not too far from where I lived a while back. I used to come here regularly a few years ago.’

‘Oh, you look nice by the way,’ Adam blurted out. ‘Sorry, I should have said that before . . .’

Jessica struggled not to laugh. The poor guy was clearly so nervous around girls, even the things he obviously planned to say came out at the wrong time. She had made a little effort, with a pair of jeans she still just about fitted in and a black top she’d had since she was sixteen. She had left her hair down too – not having to get dressed up properly was another advantage of meeting in the afternoon.

‘Thank you,’ Jessica replied, making sure she kept a straight face. ‘I was thinking maybe we could have a drink in here and then watch a movie next door? If you’re hungry, there are lots of places to eat around here afterwards.’

‘Great, yeah, that’s great.’

‘What kind of movies do you like?’

‘Oh, everything really.’

‘Even snuff movies and hardcore pornography?’

Adam looked at her, horrified. ‘No, God no. Of course not.’

‘I’m joking, Adam.’

He laughed nervously. ‘Oh yeah, sorry.’

Jessica smiled back at him. ‘Look, if we’re ever going to, er, meet with each other again, I’m going to have to lay down a few ground rules. Firstly, stop apologising. Second, it’s probably fair enough for you to just assume I’m joking about things. Okay?’

‘Yeah, sor . . . er, yeah, that’s fine.’

The cafe had a rack with flyers advertising the films showing next door. The two went over the list together and decided on a documentary about a photographer. It was not the kind of thing Jessica would have gone out of her way to watch but she didn’t fancy a subtitled film. It wasn’t that she had anything against foreign movies, just that her faith in her own eyesight was slowly deteriorating. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself just yet that she was getting too old to be able to read things correctly from a distance and a subtitled film would probably be pushing things a tad too far.

They had half an hour to wait until their showtime, so made small talk while having their drinks. Jessica found herself relaxing more as Adam finally started to overcome his nervousness. ‘Do you go to the cinema much?’ he asked.

‘Not really. I come here now and then but I can’t stand all those big multi-screen places.’

‘How come?’

‘It takes you a few years to realise but eventually you come to the conclusion that most of the general public are just arses. You want to sit there and watch some nonsense film but if it’s not some idiot slurping his drink, then it’s some grossly overweight woman troughing a bucket of popcorn.’

Adam laughed, joining in. ‘Yeah and you get those teenagers using their phones all the time.’

‘Exactly, I once marched up to this lad and hung up his phone for him. He had actually taken a call and was merrily chatting away as if he was in his living room. I had two dozen people giving me an ovation as this little scroat called me every name under the sun. He changed his tune when I pulled out my police ID.’

Adam laughed louder this time. ‘What did he do?’

‘Well, his little girlfriend didn’t seem too pleased when the staff turfed the pair of them out and gave him a bigger mouthful than he’d given me. I left her to sort him out in the end, I think the embarrassment was punishment enough.’

There weren’t too many awkward pauses in their conversation and Jessica found herself laughing a lot more than she had done in a long time. When he relaxed and stopped being so nervy, Adam was a fun guy and clearly very clever. Now he wasn’t too afraid to look at her, she could see his eyes were as big and brown as she had first thought. Jessica also found out he had a working vocabulary of French, Spanish and Italian, which she found very impressive, if a little intimidating. She wondered if that was why she couldn’t place his accent but didn’t openly ask him.

The movie was a lot better than she expected and, given it had not long turned dark after they came out, they decided to get something to eat. Jessica told Adam he could choose, seeing as she had picked the initial location. They ended up eating in a small Italian restaurant right next to her bus stop.

Jessica knew the area reasonably well and, for a district where lots of students lived and restaurants were constantly bought and rebranded, this particular place had been ever-present for as long as she could remember.

There was only room for half-a-dozen tables inside and they received a warm welcome as they entered from the man who was presumably the owner. He took Adam’s jacket and led them to a table for two in the bay window. ‘The most romantic table in the house,’ he declared loudly. Jessica and Adam laughed nervously with each other.

The walls were adorned with a mixture of cheesy Italian imagery, such as photos of a man with a moustache, and hanging peppers, chillies and spicy-looking sausages. The smells given off from those and the ones drifting from the kitchen were making Jessica hungry. Despite her earlier pledge not to drink, she ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them to share.

They agreed to split one of the large pizzas but Adam insisted he was allergic to onions, so they opted for a purely meaty one. They had almost finished eating when Jessica asked the question she had wanted to when he had first mentioned it. ‘Are you really allergic to onions or just a bit funny about them?’

‘They give me big stomach cramps.’

‘Oh, so it’s a fake allergy then?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, for me, if you’re not going to keel over dead, it doesn’t really count.’

‘So you’d rather I died as opposed to just having a tummy ache?’

‘Exactly. If you’re going to go around calling something an allergy, I think you’ve got to be able to back that up.’

Adam laughed and Jessica realised he had finally cottoned on to her sense of humour. ‘So where do you live then?’ she asked.

‘I have a house out Salford way.’

‘Do you live alone?’

Adam shuffled in his seat. He finally seemed comfortable with making eye contact but glanced out of the window as he answered. ‘No, with my grandma.’

‘Oh . . .’

Jessica didn’t mean to sound quite so blunt, it just slipped out. She didn’t know exactly how old he was but it was certainly somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. Living with your parents, let alone grandparents, wasn’t a great image. It could partially explain his awkwardness around girls. It must be hard getting time alone with the opposite sex if you still lived with your family.

Adam quickly jumped in. ‘My parents died when I was a baby and my grandma brought me up. I’ve been meaning to move out for a long time but . . . well, it’s just I don’t want her ending up in a home or anything. It wouldn’t seem fair to leave her after she took me in.’

‘Is it her you get your accent from? It doesn’t sound local.’

‘She’s from the west country somewhere. I guess some of her dialect has rubbed off on me.’

Jessica nodded gently and half-thought about making some sort of cider– or cheese-related joke. Adam had spoken quickly though and there was a strong undercurrent of emotion in his voice. Jessica felt it a little herself. ‘That’s really nice.’

‘No, it’s okay. I know it’s weird.’

‘I think it’s nice. What’s she like?’

Adam grinned. ‘Grandma? She’s . . . different. She’s got to that point where she just doesn’t care what anyone thinks any longer. Whatever’s in her head just pops out. I took her to the supermarket the other week and we were behind this woman in the queue. She had these dodgy leggings on that made her look . . . well, y’know?’

Jessica nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. There were some women who, to be polite, didn’t have the figure to pull off wearing leggings.

‘Most people wouldn’t say anything. You might glance, then look away and think, “That doesn’t look good” or something like that. But Nan’s at the point where she doesn’t have any of those social niceties. She just turns to me and goes, “Adam, do you think that woman’s got a mirror in her house?”’

‘How loud?’

‘Really loud. She’s a bit deaf too.’

‘Oh God . . .’ Jessica found herself laughing in a way she hadn’t done since before Caroline had moved out, really deep belly laughs. There were tears in her eyes as Adam joined in too.

‘Did the woman say anything?’ Jessica asked when she managed to calm herself down.

‘No but you could see her tense up – she must have heard. Then Nan kept going on about why people dress like that in public. I was trying to change the subject but she was oblivious.’

‘Oh, that poor woman.’

‘I know! This other time, she scolded a teenage kid in the local shop for wearing his trousers too low. His mates were all there and she goes, “If you don’t buck your ideas up, you’ll never get yourself a young lady. I didn’t see a young man’s underpants until I was in my twenties”.’

‘What did the kid say?’

‘Nothing much. What could he say? There was some woman in her eighties talking about his boxer shorts in front of his friends. I think he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.’

Jessica exploded with laughter again and couldn’t stop. On three separate occasions, she thought she had finished but each time, the image of the youth being told off about his underwear by a pensioner popped into her head and set her off again. Even the owner got involved, bringing over a napkin for her to dry her eyes and asking if she was okay.

‘She sounds ace,’ Jessica finally said when she finished giggling.

‘She’s all right.’

‘I’ve got to meet her one day.’ Jessica had blurted it out before she realised what she had said. It was the equivalent of asking to meet someone’s parents.

‘We’ll see. She’s not good with new people. She is always going on about me getting a girlfriend though.’

Adam had clearly said that without thinking too much either as he immediately picked up his glass of wine to stop himself saying any more. For the first time since they sat down to eat, there was an awkward pause between them. Jessica finished her own glass of wine and then broke the silence. ‘Can we talk a bit of work for a minute?’

‘Okay.’ Adam seemed pleased she was changing the subject.