‘It’s not here,’ I said, as Marcia found a space, pulled in and parked. We got out and walked up and down the street. It wasn’t a long one and was clear that there was no number 33.

‘I reckon it’s been knocked down,’ said Marcia, as she indicated the tall block of flats. ‘It could well have been over there because the houses that are on that side end at number seven.’

I felt disappointed. I wasn’t sure what I’d thought we’d find but, whatever it was, wasn’t there.

‘Do you feel anything?’ asked Marcia, as we looked up and down the street. ‘Any sense of recognition?’

‘Nope. Just a street in London like any other I’ve been down.’

Marcia began to walk towards the pub. ‘Let’s go and ask in there.’

‘Ask what?’

‘You’d have made a lousy detective,’ said Marcia. ‘You check out the area, ask around, look for clues.’

‘Well I suppose at least we can get a drink,’ I said, as we found the entrance then went inside. The pub was empty apart from a bald old man sitting at the bar. Marcia ordered two glasses of wine from a young girl with pink hair behind the counter.

‘Don’t suppose you know when that block of flats further down the road was built, do you?’ Marcia asked the barmaid.

‘Nah. I just work here Tuesdays.’

I smiled to myself and wondered what that actually had to do with anything and, maybe if she’d worked on Thursdays, she could have answered our question.

‘I can tell you,’ said the old man. ‘There was a row of terraced houses on that side of the road, all bombed in 1941, and they put that eyesore of a block up in 1960. Used to be a lovely street this, families out, a real sense of community; all gone now.’

‘Did you live in the terrace?’ Marcia asked.

‘Not me but I knew people.’

‘I don’t suppose you knew a Jackson family, number thirty-three?’

The man shook his head. ‘Can’t recall that name,’ said the man. ‘But if you say they lived locally, they might have a record of them in the church.’

As soon as we sat down with our drinks, Marcia got out a sheet of paper. I glanced down and saw that it was the list of past lovers that I’d emailed to her.

‘I have a bit of an update for you,’ she said. ‘Pete’s been on the case and found a couple on the list. So …’

We both bent our heads over the page as Marcia went through.

‘Number one. Kevin Grisham. Pete’s found him and got an address in Kent. From what he could discover, he was married, has three kids, but currently single.’

‘Wow, it’s amazing you found him.’

‘Number two. Bruno Romano.’