‘Hi, Len,’ she said, ‘it’s Mum. I’m just on the other line to Gran, she’s waiting for you outside school. Obviously there’s crossed wires about pick-up. Could you give one of us a call? Either this number or my usual – whichever, doesn’t matter. Speak in a mo.’

‘No answer?’ said Christine.

‘Have you spoken to Dad? Could he have got her?’

‘No. I don’t think so. He had a meeting with the sales director at four. I’ll try him, just in case. Call you back.’

Her mother hung up. A lorry went by, too fast for the little road, metal doors clanking. The quiet that flooded in afterwards felt deeper, absorbent. The commercial buildings across the road were all in use, there were twenty or more cars parked in the yard out front, but she couldn’t see a single human. She imagined pale men moving behind the mirrored windows, invisible but watching.

The phone. ‘It’s me,’ said her mother unnecessarily. ‘Your father’s at the office. He hasn’t heard from her.’

‘I’ll ring the school. Maybe she’s in detention or—’

‘Detention? Lennie?’

Robin felt a bizarre defensive instinct: yes, Lennie. Was her daughter so blandly obedient she’d never get into trouble? ‘Well, she’s not taking to the place like a duck to water, is she? Perhaps someone tried to push her around and she retaliated, or maybe she saw someone else being picked on. She wouldn’t stand for—’

‘Wouldn’t they tell you if she was going to be late?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know their systems yet. The number’s on this phone, Mum. I’ll ring you back.’

The call was answered almost immediately. ‘St Saviour’s.’

Robin recognized the school secretary from when she’d been registering Lennie. Pam Travis – she’d been no more inspired-sounding then. ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘this is Robin Lyons, Elena Lyons’ mother. Has she been kept back at school for any reason? My mother’s waiting outside to pick her up.’

‘Hold on,’ the woman said wearily. ‘I’ll check the detention list.’ A huffing breath suggested she’d had to stand up. Robin heard shuffling papers. ‘Here. Lyons?’ Another breath, this one closer to the phone and heavier, as if the effort was tiring her out. ‘No. Sorry.’

‘Is there any reason she’d be this late out? She couldn’t be talking to a teacher or working on a project somewhere?’

‘Does she do chess club?’

Robin hadn’t known they had such a thing – she was surprised. ‘No.’

‘That’s the only after-school on Monday, sorry.’ The woman took another stertorous breath then seemed to soften. ‘Give me your number and I’ll go down and check, just in case.’