'What's going on?' he inquired of Tracy's back. 'The whole fucking flat reeks of cannabis.'

Tracy turned around with a bemused look on her face.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said. 'I've just been cooking your tea, that's all. It's Chicken Kiev tonight.'

Webster looked around the kitchen. Pieces of breaded chicken were glowing under the grill, the chip pan was full and steaming, and there was a saucepan full of peas boiling merrily away.

It took a while for the penny to drop. Something within him didn't want to admit what had happened. He sniffed the air. The source of the cannabis stench was over by the stove. He followed his nose and stood in front of the soon-to-be ready feast. The peas had been boiling for the better part of 10 minutes. The water in which they bobbed cheerfully about was the colour of the Tyne during Newcastle's industrial heyday.