Unsettled, Robin followed her to the kitchen. The smell of citrus detergent was unmitigated by food this time, adding another dimension to the austerity of the room, which now looked bare as a barracks kitchen, the worktops empty apart from a disposable set of salt and pepper shakers by the hob and a cheap electric kettle in the corner. There was nothing on the windowsill or the table; the only thing to suggest anyone actually lived here was a corkboard by the door that bristled with paper: a flyer from the council, menus from a Chinese and the fish and chip shop, a couple of photographs. Her card, the one she’d given Ana.

As subtly as she could, Robin assessed the back door. The little bolt at the top was on; the light coming round the lock said the latch and dead-bolt were, too. She doubted she’d be able to kick it out if she had to, certainly not quickly.

‘When did you last see her?’ she said. ‘Today? Was she here last night?’

Marta pulled the lapels of her dressing gown over her collarbone. The room was very cold, her feet bare. ‘No.’

‘Has she got someone she stays with? A boyfriend?’

‘No.’ Slight indignation. ‘She has husband at home.’

‘When was the last time you saw her? Or spoke to her?’

Silence.

‘Marta?’

‘Saturday.’

Robin’s own call to Ana, when they’d spoken, had been Friday morning. It was Tuesday. ‘Has she been home since then? You just haven’t crossed paths?’ The woman looked confused. ‘I mean, you haven’t been here together – you were at the house at different times?’

‘No,’ Marta said. ‘She’s gone. She put things in suitcase, call taxi, gone.’

‘Did you see her go? Yourself – with your own eyes?’

‘Yes. I was here. I saw. She hug me, get in taxi, go.’

‘Was she alone? Was anyone with her?’

‘Alone.’

‘Where did she go?’

‘I don’t know, she didn’t tell.’

Ana had introduced her as her friend, hadn’t she? Friend, not housemate. It might have been a question of language but Ana’s English was pretty good.

‘Why did she go?’

A moment passed but then Marta said, ‘She is afraid.’

‘Of who?’

‘Police. They find out she is Serbian.’ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, Out.

‘But they told her she was safe for now. While Peter’s ill, they’re turning a blind eye – I mean, not worrying about her status. They want her to be able to visit him.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe she not believe.’

‘Is that true? Is that what she said?’

‘Is what she said to me.’