It’s not every day you get an offer like that. In fact, most days, you don’t get an offer at all.

Looking round he saw an old woman dragging a bucket across the floor and holding a mop. When she realised that his eyes were upon her, she said in a throaty voice, ‘Oh, don’t mind me, dear. You carry on.’

‘Bloody hell!’ said Detective Constable Bright. ‘It’s a minefield!’ ‘There’s more …’ replied Detective Sergeant Dawes with a grimace.

If there was one thing Alex knew about JP by now, it was that the elaboration of a keenly held opinion wouldn’t be far away. And so it proved.

While I was indulging in the ritual hand blowing that characterised my Christmas travels around the graveyard, I noticed a man who was by a grave which was two rows forward and three plots along from where I was.

Perhaps I even saw it as a foretaste of things to come: the hopefully not-too-distant days when my destiny would be fulfilled, and I’d be a key inhabitant, one of the new history makers.

As a rule, the Bishop was more in than out. Consequently the size, the airiness, and the aggressive modernity of the room made quite an impression on him. Deacon Sue realised this from the way he quietly looked around and nodded.

They were in a shop together. It was Ryman in the Strand, opposite Superdrug. She had spent the day shopping in the West End. He had been at work. They hadn’t seen each other for more than twenty years.