Before calling her mother, Robin took a moment to think. Where could Lennie be? She didn’t know Birmingham well enough to have favourite spots and even if she did, she knew she wasn’t allowed – she was thirteen, for god’s sake, she couldn’t just wander off on her own. No, don’t get cross, concentrate. Maybe she’d needed a bit of space, walked home – she’d used to walk from RPG. But that was always with Naomi, never alone, or if she was going home with Carly and Emma, they all took the bus together. She didn’t have a friend from Savvy’s to walk with yet, or if she did, she hadn’t told them.

Could she have gone into town? To have a look around, drift about some shops? Or the hospital to try to see Peter?

Quickly, she called Will. No reply.

She Googled the number for the hospital and asked to be put through to Intensive Care. ‘Peter Legge?’ said the woman. ‘No, there’s no visitors with him at the moment, and I’ve only got adults in the waiting area, sorry.’

Christine called on the other line. ‘She’s not in detention,’ Robin told her. ‘The secretary’s gone to see if she’s joined chess club without telling us.’

‘Would she?’

‘I don’t think so but I don’t think she’d just wander off somewhere, either. She’s not with Peter, I just checked. Though she could still be on her way there. Maybe she got the bus into town – she’s got money, I gave her some on Saturday. I’ll call her again, hold on.’

Voicemail again. ‘Hi, Len, it’s me. Give me a ring as soon as you can, we’re just a bit worried. You’re not in any trouble, nothing to worry about, just want to make sure you’re okay.’ She paused. ‘I love you.’

‘Now what?’ said Christine.

‘Could you drive the route home, see if she’s walking?’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Go to Corinna’s.’

The snowman house, where they’d spent Christmases and weekends, where Len had been doted on by Rin and Josh and played for hours with Peter, the closest thing she had to a cousin or in fact any family her own age. Poor Lennie, what kind of childhood was it, the single child of a single workaholic mother, no father, no family nearby until now and only then under duress. Mum, Gran, could you please stop fighting?

The school run had shaded seamlessly into rush hour. Edgbaston was almost halfway round the city from Hockley, north-west to south, light after light after light, traffic solid. Both phones were on her lap, ringers on maximum, but her eyes kept going to them anyway. Come on, Len.