A couple of times, it had been touch and go staying close to Stella through traffic that was heavier than Lindsay remembered it being when she had lived in the city. But she’d always managed to keep her in sight at the junctions where crucial decisions were taken. Once they’d cleared the Angel, they picked up speed on City Road, where the traffic was lighter and houses gave way to tall warehouses, old buildings where light industry had lodged since the bricks were first laid, offices nudged in among them down side streets. When they hit the big roundabout by Old Street tube, Lindsay was forced to sit on Stella’s back bumper as the van between them peeled off into the middle lane. A quick left and a half right brought Lindsay on to unknown territory. All she knew was that she was heading in the general direction of the City, though she suspected they were going to skirt its eastern edge rather than penetrate the canyons of commerce themselves. Wherever they were headed, it wasn’t home.

She wasn’t happy with being slap bang in the middle of Stella’s rearview mirror, but she was torn between fear of losing her in unfamiliar streets and fear of being spotted as a tail. The decision was suddenly taken from her when a Porsche shrieked out of a side street, cutting in between her and Stella without even a wave of gratitude. “Pillock,” Lindsay muttered, but her heart wasn’t in it.

They carried on in the same direction, past streets she’d only ever heard of. Whitechapel Road from the Monopoly board. Cable Street, scene of the anti-Fascist riots of the thirties. Just when Lindsay was convinced the next junction must bring them hard up against the Thames, Stella swung left into a wide street. The Porsche roared off to the right, leaving Lindsay a gap to make up. As she turned, she saw the green car a few hundred yards down the road turning right into a narrow street. Swearing, Lindsay shot down to the turning and swung the car across the oncoming traffic in a blare of horns. She was in time to see Stella turn again. When she made it to the junction, Stella was gone, the green car somewhere in a maze of narrow streets. “Shit, shit, shit!” Lindsay yelled, smacking her hand hard against the steering wheel.

She pulled in to the curb while she considered. If Stella had spotted her and deliberately shaken her off, there was no chance of catching her now. She’d be back on the main road and miles away within minutes. But she’d shown no signs of trying to shake off pursuit, so the odds were that she’d turned off the arterial road because she was near her destination. Logically, Lindsay decided, if she drove around the nearby streets, she’d come upon the Fiat.