‘I don’t know how much money she has. Her dad and I would willingly help her out at the drop of a hat. She only has to ask, but I expect she’s too proud. I hate to think of her alone in some hotel room, wondering what to do. I suppose we could call around the hotels, but they won’t tell us anyway.’

‘That letting woman, she said that Hannah had left, not that she’d been thrown out because the rent hadn’t been paid, didn’t she? That means Hannah made an active choice to leave.’

She replaced the cup carefully in the saucer. She felt as fragile as the delicate china. ‘You’re right. That is a good thing. It means she must have plans. I’m going to have to call Fraser, even though I don’t want him knowing I’ve come over here. I suppose he has a right to know.’ She checked her watch. It was the middle of the afternoon and for Drew’s sake she thought they should go home – he’d already had to delegate his festival jobs too, and it was totally unfair to keep two of the committee away from Porthmellow because of her family problems. ‘I think we’d better set off soon. It’s no use staying here, Hannah could be absolutely anywhere.’

‘You could call her …’

‘Yes. I will.’ It seemed the obvious thing to do, but Chloe had been too bowled over by the disappointment of finding Hannah had moved to think straight. She called Hannah’s number, holding her breath. But within a couple of rings, the call went straight to voicemail. The silence only added to her worry, but Chloe left a message, saying she’d tried to visit her at the flat and asking Hannah to call her.

‘Do you think it’s worth asking around the flats to see if anyone knows where she is?’ Drew suggested.

‘You mean knock on a few doors?’

‘Exactly.’

She glanced back at the building. Banging on doors to see if anyone knew her own daughter’s address would seem very odd. Was she desperate enough for that? She decided she was.

Steeling herself, they went back into the building and got an answer from a couple of flats. One was a new tenant who didn’t even know who Hannah was, and the other said he’d seen her move out but hadn’t known her well enough to ask where she was going.

They trooped back to the car. ‘I refuse to contact Jordan,’ she said. ‘I don’t trust myself. I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to go home and keep trying her phone. I’ll try to get hold of Fraser too, though he’s at a conference in Austria. I can’t think of anything else.’