There was no doubt then. The woman in the pub wasn’t Kitty. Even so, Dee wanted to see her one final time, just to make absolutely sure. She decided she would go the next day. The following morning, she got up early and was on a train that arrived into London Victoria train station at 9.35.

Getting off the train, Dee switched to the Underground, joining the bustle of commuters, tourists and other bodies all crammed into a carriage on the eastbound District Line to Aldgate East.

Dee had bought her first flat near Aldgate East, way back in the early nineties, before property prices had gone stratospheric. Today, the neighbourhood was unrecognisable from the scruffy, down-at-heel area it had been back then. Gone were the tatty corner shops, the sleazy pubs and the greasy takeaways, replaced by glossy apartment complexes, trendy bars and high-rise office blocks. Although when she reached Commercial Road, she saw pockets of the area had managed to escape gentrification.

She was pleased to see the Castle pub was still open for business. She’d spent many hours propping up the bar in there, chatting shit with John Doyle, the Irish landlord. Despite a lick of paint and a new sign over the door, the pub looked very much as it had when Dee had lived nearby.

A lot more buildings had been converted into apartments, of course, but the rows of wholesale clothes shops were still here, along with the small kebab houses that sold some of the best meat Dee had ever eaten. And, somehow, Watney Street Market – with its budget shops, Iceland supermarket and one seriously grim pub – had survived the gentrification as well.

The E-One art gallery was on Deancross Street. It occupied the ground floor of a modern, characterless apartment block. Looking through the windows, Dee could see the space included a cafe as well as a gallery and, as she pushed open the door, she was hit with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

‘A flat white please,’ Dee said, when the woman behind the counter asked her what she’d like to drink.

‘Take a seat and I’ll bring it over to you,’ the woman said. ‘Unless you’d like it in a takeaway cup so you can look at the art while you drink it?’

‘A takeaway cup would be great,’ Dee said. ‘Thanks.’

‘Your first visit?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

The woman smiled.

‘I’m the owner. Spend more time here than I do at home. I recognise people who’ve been here before. And I don’t recognise you. You live in the area?’

‘I used to,’ Dee said. ‘A long time ago. I’m in London visiting a friend today. He told me about the gallery so I thought I’d come and take a look.’