Which was another reason why Tilly felt uneasy. She’d seen too many people disappear in the midst of ongoing controversies to not take him seriously. She knew, and she thought George did too, that it was easier to get rid of someone – essentially to rub them out – than it was to get a new store card. She’d seen it before. It was something she’d never discussed, and she’d never personally investigated, but she knew without any doubt that it went on, every day, every year, even though no one could prove it. The thought of penetrating a world where that happened was too thrilling an offer for her to resist.

If George was uncontactable, then she had to consider that, given his story, something alarming might have happened to him. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out that he’d been researching investigative journalists and possibly blowing the whistle. Tilly might already have an expiry date on her head. She tried his number again, and this time it didn’t even give a signal. It simply went silent, as if the phone was no longer in service.

Before she left for the library, Tilly did something that she hadn’t done in a long time. She wrote to her mother. She figured that a letter was the safest way. She knew she was being melodramatic, but she managed to pen something satisfactory in the end. It was informative enough to give a clue to where she might be found if she went missing, but protected her family from knowing too much.

After her shower, she smoked another cigarette on her balcony and tied her hair up above her head. Her friends told her that her skin was still so taut and clear because she had no kids waking her up in the middle of the night like they did, sucking the life out of them and ageing them like automatons in a baby factory. It was true: she didn’t look thirty. She applied a little make-up and checked her outfit in the mirror: jeans, T-shirt and a short summer jacket. It wasn’t showy, fashionable or particularly alluring, and that was the point. Miss Ordinary. She put the envelope for her mother in her bag and left the flat.

Chapter 9

Kelly was in the middle of eating a sandwich when Ted called with news about the identity of Mr Launch. His dental records had revealed a match to fifty-nine-year-old George Murphy of Wanstead, London E11.

‘Thought so,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Ted sounded disappointed that somebody had beaten him to the information, and Kelly appreciated his keenness. She explained about the burglary at Allerdale House, and how she’d recognised the man from his photograph on the Ravensword website.

‘Oh dear, I suppose you’ll have to go to London then?’