Gene Hunt. The Manc Lion. The Guv. A supposed epitome of strength had spent every second since leaving work second-guessing himself and wondering whether this was the right thing. Despite his fears he was now stood outside Alex's flat, bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other - and not some cheap bunch from a corner shop, but a proper bouquet from a flower shop.

He no longer looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards and dumped in a baker's shop. He was dressed in a suit - always a suit, he rarely wore anything else. He'd even put on a decent aftershave.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, leaning against the wall as he waited.