‘I can see that it would be a good place to hide and be alone,’ said Theresa. ‘Where is your boat moored?’

‘Here. In Bellevue-sur-Mer.’

‘Good. Let’s go.’ Leading them, Theresa ran along the quay towards the Gare Maritime and the tiny port de plaisance behind it.

Darkness was falling fast. The street lights flickered on.

Desperately out of breath, the three turned into the small harbour, and stood together, panting at the water’s edge.

‘Which pontoon?’ asked Theresa, looking out at about fifty boats moored in lines of white.

‘This one.’

‘What’s the boat’s name?’

Roger and Cynthia spoke at once –

Cynthia: ‘Sea Nymph 2.’

Roger: ‘The Bitch Got The House.’

There was a short pause while Cynthia took this in.

‘You changed the name of the boat? Don’t you know that it’s unlucky, Roger? You should never change a boat’s name.’

‘Superstitious rot.’

‘Fine. Could you repeat the name, please, Roger?’ Cynthia took a small step back. ‘And slightly louder this time?’

He hung his head and said quietly, ‘The Bitch Got The House.’

Cynthia turned and slapped his face.

‘Ow! That hurt.’

‘So did the new name of our boat.’

‘Mr and Mrs Muffett! Please! We need to get on to your boat. Now.’

Theresa followed Roger along the wooden pontoon.

He looked around. ‘What?’

His face wore a sudden look of horror.

‘Where?’ Panicked, he turned in each direction.

‘Where’s it gone?’

‘What do you mean, “Where’s it gone?”’ Cynthia was pulling at Roger’s jacket. ‘Roger? Roger! Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘No, Cyn.’ Roger ran both hands through his hair. ‘No, I’m not.’ He put his palms up, covering his nose and mouth. ‘Our boat’s not here.’

‘Now, Roger!’ Theresa stepped in, trying for some sense. ‘You’re certain that this is where you left it?’

‘Yes!’ Roger flung his hands out in a wide circle. ‘Of course I’m bloody certain this is where I left it.’

‘There’s no need to be rude, Rog. The poor woman is trying to help us.’

‘And find my granddaughter.’

‘Oh yes. Yes.’ Cynthia peered into the dark. ‘Do they know how to turn the lights on? You can’t go floating out on a boat at night with no lights . . .’

‘They don’t know anything.’ Roger started to weep. ‘I never let him drive. He hasn’t got a clue.’

‘Neither of them can drive a boat.’ Theresa was very frightened indeed. And worst of all, she knew that it was her fault for letting Chloe out of her sight. ‘Come on, you two. This situation has just got very serious.’

‘Does this boat with a pathetic name still have a tracking device?’ asked Cynthia.

‘I haven’t an inkling.’ Roger shook his head. ‘I never really worked anything much out except stop and go.’