By the time she finished, her mum's eyes had drifted closed, and she was silent for so long that Gemma thought she had fallen asleep. She was reaching for her handbag when her mother said softly, "It must have been hard for your friend Erika, during the war. You can't imagine what it was like, during the bombing. You never knew if you were going to get through the night. But we were family, all the neighbors, and everyone looked out after everyone else. If you had no one…"

Gemma sat back in surprise. Her mum never talked about the war.

"Of course, it was easier for children," Vi went on, her eyes still closed. "Children adapt. We forgot, after a bit, that we had ever known anything different." She opened her eyes and smiled at Gemma. "Little savages, weren't we? Got up in the mornings and ran to see what had been hit the night before. And we got used to people disappearing from our lives.

"Children are such odd creatures, like sweets, hard on the outside and soft on the inside. It was only later that the memories would creep up on us."

"I never knew." Gemma took her mother's hand, stroking her thumb over the soft skin between her mum's thumb and finger. The tissue felt thin, fragile.

"Oh, I never meant you to. Don't know why I'm going on about it now. Except…I was thinking about Kit today." Vi met Gemma's gaze. "He'll be worried about me."

"Yes," Gemma admitted. "He is."

Her mother gripped her hand. "It's hard for you, isn't it-to tell Kit that you love him."

"I-" Gemma stared at her mum, blindsided. "I-I don't want-I never want him to feel I'm trying-"

"Kit won't think you're trying to take his mother's place," Vi said with unexpected fierceness. "You've gone past that now. He loves you, and he needs to know that you are not going away."

It wasn't until Melody stood on the pavement outside the nightclub at Notting Hill Gate that she thought about her clothes. The street was in shadow as the setting sun dipped behind the buildings to the west. The amplifiers in the club pumped music up the stairs, pushing it out into the street in throbbing waves of sound, and the handful of girls that slipped into the doorway as Melody watched looked like butterflies in their jeans and gaudy tops.

Melody glanced down at her suit, charcoal that day, with the skirt showing an entire daring inch of thigh. Her legs were bare, at least-it had been too warm for tights-and were worth showing off a bit, but she was going to look as out of place as a polar bear at the equator. This was an occasion when her protective coloring would put her at a disadvantage, and she found that bothered her more than she expected.

"Oh, bugger," she muttered, and slipped off her jacket. She pulled out her shirttail and unbuttoned the second button on her white shirt, then the third, then ran a hand through her dark hair, mussing her usual tidy style.

Grimacing at her own foolishness, she added, aloud, "Fat lot of good that will do."

"Have you started talking to yourself?" said a voice behind her.

She jumped, swearing, and turned to find Doug Cullen watching her with a grin. "I was just-never mind," she said. "You shouldn't sneak up on people."

"And you shouldn't do a strip in public if you don't want people watching."

Melody flushed, furious with him and with herself. "It's warm, and warmer down there."

"You were going to steal a march on me, weren't you?" said Cullen, giving her a considering eye.

"And you weren't?" she challenged.

"I couldn't," he answered mildly. "You have Dominic Scott's photo."

Somehow this made her more aggravated, not less. Gritting her teeth, she said, "Yes. So let's get it over with," and charged towards the stairs.

But she found immediately that it was a steep, straight flight, and not made for plunging down in heels. Forced to slow down and step carefully, she felt Doug Cullen's eyes on her back and it made her as awkward as the schoolgirl she had once been.

But as she reached the floor of the club, the pulse of the music and the liquid blue light subsumed all other perception. Even though it was still early, the floor was crowded. Melody found she had to twist and sidle to make her way through the crush of bodies.

Managing to squeeze into a space at the bar before Cullen, Melody smiled at the barmaid, a pretty girl with Scandinavian-fair hair woven into a thick plait. Melody watched her making a cocktail, graceful as a dancer as she mixed, shook, and poured.

When she'd served the pink concoction to the waiting customer, she turned to Melody. "What can I get you?" Her accent was as English as Melody's own.

"We just want a word, if you don't mind." Melody held up her warrant card and the two photos she had pulled from her bag. "I'm DC Talbot." She nodded at Cullen, who had maneuvered into a space beside her. "Sergeant Cullen."

The girl looked slightly wary, but after checking that no one was waiting to be served at her end of the bar, said, "Okay. Shoot. I'm Eva, by the way."

"Were you working Monday night?"

Eva frowned, thinking, then nodded. "Yeah. I was on. Not my usual, but I was filling in for Jake."

Melody handed over the photos. "Did you see either of these people that night?" She wondered how the girl could remember anyone in the constant onslaught of faces at the bar, but to her surprise Eva nodded again and tapped the photos.

"Yeah. I've seen them before. But that night they didn't seem to be getting on. He was waiting for her, and she was stroppy from the minute she came in. Said she didn't want a drink, then when he ordered for her anyway, she practically downed it in one go."

"Then what happened?" asked Doug, interrupting the flow of the girl's narrative and irritating Melody. But Eva gave him an assessing look and smiled.

"I got busy. Next thing I saw, she was leaving, and he looked royally pissed off."

"Did he follow her?" Melody kept her tone as casual as was possible at a half shout.

Eva shook her head. "No. Had another drink. But he was broody, and didn't talk to me when I served him. Didn't tip me, either. Pretty boy," she added, with another smile at Cullen. "But I've seen him with some dodgy blokes."

"Anyone you know?"

"No. Just didn't look the sort you'd want to meet in a dark alley, if you know what I mean."

"Did you see what time he left?" asked Cullen, raising his voice against a new influx of customers.

"No. We get really busy just after the pubs close, and I don't remember seeing him after that." She glanced at the raucous crowd shoving up to the bar. "Look, sorry-" She handed the photos back.

"Thanks," said Melody. "You've been great. One more thing-where did they sit?"

"Front corner." Eva gestured towards the banquette tucked up against the street side, and glancing at the photos of the couple she had never met, Melody had a moment's vision of Dominic Scott and Kristin Cahill hunched over the table, arguing, their faces tense. Had it been about more than Dominic standing Kristin up on Saturday night?

Bringing her back to the present, Eva gave her a smile even more brilliant than the one she'd given Cullen, then said, "Why are you asking, by the way?"

Melody found she didn't want to be the one to bring a shadow on this bright girl. "Oh, just routine. Ta. Have a good night."

Melody raised a hand in salute, ignoring Cullen's frown, and led the way back through the crowd and up the stairs to the street.

It was a lovely evening. The setting sun had turned the buttermilk clouds in the sky behind the Coronet Theatre to a brilliant gold, and it looked as though cherubs might bounce down from them at any moment, blowing trumpets.

As they stood side by side on the pavement, for a wild instant Melody considered asking him if he wanted to get a meal and a glass of wine at the Pizza Express up the road.