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when he did. She’d just have to stick it out.
     
    As soon as they’d finished, and the last ripple of applause had died away, Pepper got up and walked over to Justin, who was already coiling his guitar lead between his elbow and hand.
    ‘That was great, love. Excellent. But I have to go. Adam needs to get off.’
    ‘Come on, Pepper. Just a quick drink. I’m parched.’
    ‘All right, just a quick one, then. What would you like?’
     
    When she came back from the bar Justin said something to the drummer, busy dismantling his kit, and the long-haired lad glanced up at her. She wasn’t quite old enough to be his mum, perhaps, but she could easily be his oldest auntie.
    ‘It’s a young man’s game, is this’ she said, passing Justin his drink.
    ‘Leonard Cohen is touring again, and he’s a bloody good age.’
    ‘Aye, but wasn’t he originally famous when he was, you know..’
    ‘A lot younger than me? I dare say he was, but I’m only just finding my voice now, Pepper. This is our time, love. I can feel it in the air.’
     
    She didn’t think it would be helpful to observe that his voice sounded much the same as it had when she’d first met him, fifteen years before. Possibly in this very pub, or in one just like it.
    ‘Anyway, I enjoyed the new material’ she said. ‘And the band does sound good.’
    She could tell from his expression that she’d said the right thing.
    ‘They do, don’t they? You see what I mean, love. Good songs and the best band I’ve ever had. It’s going somewhere this time, I’m certain.’
    ‘That’s great. No, honestly love, I mean it.’
     
    But the look on his face told her that he didn’t believe her. Not for one second.
    ‘I know you hear people saying that ‘it’ll be different this time’ and all that other shit, every day, in your job,’ he said. ‘But I really mean it. I know you’ll never understand, but I do need to do this, Pepper.’
    ‘Need what exactly? You’re a good photographer, Justin, everyone says so.’
    ‘It’s not the same. All I do is take pictures of people looking too bloody pleased with themselves, whether it’s weddings or stuff for the local papers. It’s all bollocks, honestly, love. Like I say, I need this.’
    ‘I know you do. That’s why I’m here. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. You know, if it doesn’t quite happen for you.’
    He laughed. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Look, I know you think I’m selfish and irresponsible….’
    Pepper had glanced at her watch again. She just couldn’t help herself. ‘I’m sorry, love, but I really do have to go.’
    ‘Aye, you go then. Don’t want to keep Adam waiting, do we? I expect he’s still got his socks to iron when he gets home.’
    Pepper laughed.
    ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. Look, I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer, I really am. And you were great. Really. Let’s hope that The Working Poor puts you straight on the path to stardom, love. Fame at last, eh?’
     
    Pepper was pretty certain that she’d said the wrong thing this time. But it was too late, and she was too tired, to try to sort it out now. So she hugged Justin, waved a vague goodbye to the rest of the band, and made for the door. If she was lucky a patrol car would spot her and give her a lift home. And, sure enough, when she reached English Street a marked car pulled up just ahead of her.
    ‘All right, lads?’ she asked, as she got in. ‘Nice quiet evening, I hope?’
    ‘Aye, nothing happening at all, love. Quiet as the grave, tonight. That’s just the way I like it, mind.’
    ‘I know it is, John. I know it is.’

Wednesday, 3rd September
    10.05am, Detective Inspector’s office, Carlisle Divisional HQ.
     
    ‘Put wood in hole, Henry’ said Pepper, and DC Armstrong closed the door behind him. ‘I wanted us to have a quick chat, while we have the chance.’
    ‘Is it about Amanda Brown, boss?’
    ‘Partly, but we’ll come back to that in a bit. First, I wanted