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Oscar had calmed down from the height of his panic attack, but his anxious pacing across the police station waiting area and his occasional low muttering was driving Julia a bit mad. Cherise, the desk officer, had phoned DI Hayley Gibson, who was apparently close by.

‘She asks that you wait for her. She won’t be more than a few minutes,’ said Cherise pleasantly, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world to have a man, who had just a few days before been brought in for questioning and sent on his way, arrive at the station pacing and muttering and demanding to be arrested for murder.

And here they were, waiting. Oscar, Julia, and a young woman in a rust-coloured hijab, rolling a sweet little boy in a pushchair back and forth, back and forth, his eyelids almost closing, and then fluttering open. Julia had overheard the woman telling Cherise that she had heard a scraping noise and come out of the hardware shop to find a deep scratch running the length of her car. Whoever had hit the car had driven off, but she could see from the paint scratch left behind that it was a red car. ‘Bloody tourists,’ Cherise had muttered, listening to the story.

Julia envied the young mum her comparatively small and manageable problem, although it doubtless felt overwhelming and stressful to her.

Julia sighed quietly at the loss of her own imagined day of applying her mind to the vexed question of who on earth could have wanted Graham dead. You would imagine that sitting in a police station with a man who wanted to turn himself in for the crime would have solved the issue, but it very much didn’t. If anything, Oscar’s episode was making it clear that he was the least likely suspect.

Instead of hunting down clues, she found herself in an uncomfortable moulded plastic chair in the police station, surveying the informative posters and announcements on the noticeboard, in the company of the one person that she was almost sure was not the murderer. Given her surprisingly regular visits to the station, Julia had already read all of the posters multiple times, and internalised their messages: Don’t fall for Internet scammers! and Be Fire Aware! and We’re recruiting! Join Cotswold Police in serving your community and Phone numbers you should know . She sighed again.

You volunteered to come , she told herself sternly, and quite rightly. The man needs your help .

But not from the police. What he needed was medical or psychological attention. Julia had an idea. She got up and said quietly to Oscar, ‘Going for a breath of fresh air. I’ll be right outside the door.’

Oscar nodded in a disinterested sort of way, and walked back in the direction of the noticeboard.

Once outside, Julia phoned Sean. It was a long shot – if she was lucky, she would catch him between patients, or on his mid-afternoon tea break. She was in luck .

‘Julia, hi. I was going to call you this afternoon. I’m sorry. It’s just been so frantic with Jono and I meant to…’

She cut his flustered apology short. ‘That’s fine. No need for an apology. I need a bit of advice.’ She explained the situation in two or three quick sentences.

‘Oscar is a patient of mine,’ Sean said, a little reluctantly. Julia supposed that, strictly speaking, even admitting that was a breach of patient–doctor privilege. ‘If he’s prepared to come and see me, I’ll fit him in today. Perhaps a chat and a mild anti-anxiety medication might help.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Julia,’ he said quickly, as she made to end the call. ‘Would you like to have supper tonight? With me and Jono?’

She hesitated only a moment, before saying, ‘Thank you, that sounds lovely.’ Feeling like she had achieved something, she went back into the station.

Hayley Gibson walked through the glass doors at a rapid clip. Her clever eyes surveyed the scene – the young woman with the baby, Oscar’s pacing, Julia’s air of mild irritation mingled with concern.

‘Hello, Oscar.’

Oscar stilled for a moment, and his face softened in relief at the sight of her. He started to talk, a little less manically. ‘Good, there you are. The murderer is the person who pulls the trigger. I understand this now. I’m a lawyer, as you know. And I pronounce myself guilty. I’m the murderer, you see.’

The young woman overheard his confession and pulled the pushchair closer. She leaned protectively over her child, her wide eyes fixed on the raving murderer a few steps away.

‘Let’s talk in my office,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘We can sort things out there.’

‘I pulled?—’

‘Come on, Oscar,’ Julia said, cutting off his exclamation, and ushering him towards the door that led to the offices behind.

Hayley gave the young woman a reassuring smile and led the way into her office, which was the usual fire hazard of piles of paper, but with the addition of a waxy white orchid in a blue ceramic pot, placed in a little clearing at the edge of the desk. It was so startling in its brilliant white beauty that Julia stopped and stared.

‘A gift,’ said Hayley, brusquely. She motioned for them to sit.

‘Lovely,’ said Julia, and it was, although somehow its pristine presence made the rest of the place look worse.

‘I pulled the trigger,’ Oscar said loudly, bringing everyone back to the matter of the day. His brief period of calm had ended, and he was agitated, his leg jumping up and down.

‘Yes, Oscar. I know you did. We talked about it when you gave me your statement, remember?’ Hayley spoke calmly, and clearly. It was the sort of voice a professional used when conversing with someone not quite in control of their faculties. Julia recognised it, having used it many times herself.

‘Oscar, is there any new information that you have that can help us understand what happened to Graham?’ Hayley asked.

Oscar peered deeply into the detective’s face and spoke to her slowly, and with emphasis, as if she was not very bright: ‘Yes. New information. The murderer is the person who discharges the weapon. I shot the gun. Criminal law 101. So I’m the murderer.’

‘Yes, Oscar. We know you did. But did you know there was a bullet in the gun?’

‘Of course I did not! I am not a cold-blooded killer. But I am a murderer . Now you must arrest me!’

Hayley caught Julia’s eye, and an unspoken moment passed between them, acknowledging Oscar’s state.

Julia spoke. ‘Oscar, you’ve been through terrible stress. Dr O’Connor was just on the phone. He wondered if you might come and see him for a chat. It might help to talk. ’

‘Oh,’ Oscar said. ‘Oh yes, Dr Sean…A chat…’

He seemed to be considering the offer.

‘But what about the police?’ he asked, looking over at Hayley. ‘My arrest cannot be delayed…I should stay here.’

‘You go and see Dr Sean,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘You can always come back later if necessary. And I know where to find you if I need more information from you in the meantime.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Julia said encouragingly.

‘Well, if the detective thinks it’s best, I’ll go,’ said Oscar. ‘But you must make a note on your papers. I am the murderer.’

‘Come on then,’ said Julia, silently waving goodbye to the possibility of even the smallest bit of pottering. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

After dropping Oscar at Sean’s rooms, and handing him over to Sean’s kindly receptionist, Julia’s day had been much smoother, although empty of any ideas as to how she could clear her name. She was most pleased when evening fell, and it was time to visit Sean for supper. Over the cacophony of delighted barking on either side of the front door, Julia heard Sean call out, ‘Could you let Julia in, Jono? My hands are dirty.’

A long minute later, the door opened and Jono appeared, his hair shaggy and lopsided, as if he’d been roused from sleep. ‘Oh, hi,’ he said. He stood there for a minute blinking, and then seemed to remember how doors work, and stepped aside to let her in. The dogs, meanwhile, were greeting each other enthusiastically, with little yelps of pleasure and a blur of noses and tails. ‘Steady on, Leo,’ Jono said quietly, reaching a hand down to rest on the dog’s head. Leo stopped in his tracks, leaning against the young man’s leg.

Jake seemed to pick up on the vibe, and came to a halt. The two dogs trotted calmly after Julia and Jono into the kitchen, where Sean was grating a block of cheese onto a wooden board. He put the cheese down, wiped his hands on his apron, and gave her a hug. It was quick but firm, and when he released her, she sensed that he would have liked to linger. That he had missed her, as she had missed him these last few days. Jono leaned awkwardly at the door frame, Leo at his feet.

‘For the cauliflower cheese,’ Sean said, indicating the pile of yellow curls. ‘The chicken’s in the oven. It’ll be half an hour still.’

‘You have been busy! A full day in the rooms, and such a good supper.’

‘Ah well, I’ve got my lad home.’ Sean turned to Jono with a broad smile. ‘And the weather’s turning chilly, so I thought I’d make something hearty. And there’ll be leftovers for a while. We can’t be having frozen pizzas like a couple of saddos, hey, Jono?’ His voice was cheery, but in an unfamiliar way that seemed a little forced, as if he was trying too hard. Hardly surprising, given that father and son had spent so little time together in the past few years.

‘Yeah. Thanks, Dad.’

Sean poured Julia a glass of Merlot, and one for himself. He glanced up at Jono, and back at the wine, and hesitated before putting the cork back in the bottle, hitting it firmly twice with the flat of his hand. It was a moment that seemed to have some heft to it, some unspoken significance.

‘Would you set the table, Jono? The cutlery is in the drawer in the sideboard. ‘

‘Sure.’ Jono patted his thigh once as he exited, and the two dogs followed him, walking calmly at his heel.

With Jono out of the kitchen, Sean seemed to release a little of the tension he had been carrying in his body. Julia didn’t remark on this – it was none of her business and now wasn’t the time – but asked, simply, ‘How was your day?’

‘Busy!’ He smiled. ‘A full day of patients, and then Oscar. ’

‘It was kind of you to offer to see him at such short notice. Thank you.’

He smiled and waved her thanks away, saying, ‘He is calmer. We had a good talk, and I gave him some medical advice.’ Julia took this to mean a prescription, but of course Sean wouldn’t say. ‘I sent him home in a taxi. He assured me he had someone to be with for the evening.’

‘As far as I know, he doesn’t have a partner, but I hope he’s got a good friend. He’s dealing with a lot of guilt.’

‘It wasn’t his fault, but still, it’s an awful situation.’

‘I’m sure he appreciated your help. And now, after all that, you’re making a slap-up dinner. You’re a good man.’

‘Well, I try. Not always successfully,’ he said. He sighed, and went back to practical matters. He spoke quietly, knowing Jono was in the next room. ‘I’d forgotten how much young men eat. I made us a couple of sausages and some green beans yesterday and when we’d finished – which took all of about four minutes – the poor chap had to have three slices of toast and peanut butter to fill up.’

‘Hollow legs, my dad used to call it.’

‘Yes. Hence the chicken. I want him to feel at home, and comfortable. And not hungry!’ Sean took her hand and held it firmly. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. There’s been a lot to do, getting Jono settled. Quite an adjustment. He’s very…lost. And sad, I think. Quiet. I don’t know quite what to do with him.’

‘I understand. It looks like you are making a good start. Remember, you’re not alone. I’m here if you want to talk. Or bring him over for supper.’

‘I know. And there’s a lot I want to talk to you about when we have the time and the space. Supper would be good, too. I’ve told Jono about us, by the way.’

‘About us? Oh dear,’ she teased. ‘What did you say, exactly?’

Sean didn’t adopt her joking tone, but looked into her eyes and said seriously, ‘I told him that I’d met a warm and clever and beautiful woman, and that we are in a relationship, and that it makes me very happy.’

Julia flushed, and stammered, rather inelegantly, ‘Likewise, Doctor.’

He leaned in and kissed her softly. ‘Come on. Let’s go through.’

They took their wine into the sitting room, where Jono was sitting on the carpet. He had a guitar in his hands and was picking a gentle melody, something that sounded jazzy and bluesy and a little mournful, but in a lovely way. Leo’s golden head rested on one of his knees. Jake was tucked in next to him on the other side looking blissful, as if transported by the music. Jake had not hitherto shown any sign of being a music aficionado, so Julia assumed it was Jono’s presence or the warmth of his leg that was transporting him.

Jono stopped playing when he saw his father and Julia appear.

‘That’s beautiful,’ said Julia. ‘What is it?’

‘“The Wedding”, by a South African composer, Abdullah Ibrahim.’

‘Ah, I didn’t realise you were a jazz man,’ she said. ‘For some reason I imagined you played, more, like…pop music.’ She felt about a hundred and four years old saying this, knowing that these were probably not only the wrong words, but out of date by thirty years.

‘My band is more post-punk garage rock, with a kind of alt feel, but I play jazz too, when I’m on my own.’

As she’d suspected, she had only the very vaguest idea what that meant, but it was about the longest sentence she’d heard Jono utter, which she took as progress.

‘It’s lovely to have music in the house. And I see the dogs like it too.’

‘That’s not the music, that’s Jono,’ said Sean proudly. ‘Ever since he was little, animals have loved him. Stray dogs would follow him home; cats would choose his lap to sit on.’

Jono rested his guitar on his knees and stroked a dog with each hand. ‘I like animals and they like me.’

Julia smiled. One of the things that she had noticed when she was a social worker was that the troubled young men who had a connection with an animal – a family pet or a stray that they had taken in or a neighbour’s friendly dog – seemed to have a better chance of a happy outcome. It wasn’t a scientific observation by any means, and Julia was sure that many people would disagree with her. But she believed it. Jono was the type of lad who was going to be okay. Berrywick would work its magic on him.