She felt it go, like a twig-snap in her head. Anger surged through her, filled her stomach, her chest, her arms. Pressure on her temples, like a thumb and forefinger, pincers. ‘I can’t.’ The words came out in a growl. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

Another surge. Stop, said a brain cell that still had a grip but she was past caring, past control. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘it’s not just about Corinna. It’s about Peter – he’s not dead. Not yet. And Josh – remember him, your friend Josh? He saved my life, Samir – saved my life. If he’s dead, I need to know why, I need to understand. And if there’s any chance he’s still alive, however small, I’m going to take it. I need to find him. For Peter, so he has a dad. To clear his name.’

He was staring at her, irises almost black in the streetlight. ‘What do you mean, he saved your life? Him and Corinna – when you had Lennie? Looking after you?’

She stared back. He knew? He knew that Rin had lived with her in London, that Josh had come most weekends? In her mind, when she’d gone, got the fuck away from here, she’d imagined that she’d gone from his mind, too. That was certainly the impression he’d given her that night, when he’d told her he wasn’t coming to London after all, he suddenly – drop of a hat, five days after they got back from travelling – just didn’t feel the same any more. Of course he’d heard the big stuff, like her being pregnant, actually having Lennie, but it hadn’t occurred to her – why hadn’t it? – that he’d know more than that, the domestic details, how they’d helped her, kept her going. That of course Lennie had never had a dad to go to her parents’ evenings.

She could do it – she was right on the edge but she could still pull back. She looked him in the eye. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Before that. Years ago. Here, in Birmingham.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Stop, ordered the voice. Stop. She looked around – the street was still empty. She lowered her voice anyway, right down. ‘When we were seventeen,’ she said, and as the words left her mouth she felt weirdly light, disembodied. As if she were smoke, rising. ‘We went out one night. Me, Rin and Josh. We got very drunk – I don’t know why, we were just having a good time.’ A static mental image of green baize, balls scattered over it like Christmas decorations. ‘We got drunk at happy hour and just carried on. Then Josh said he’d heard about a new club in the Jewellery Quarter and we wanted to dance so we went there.’

Samir’s eyes hadn’t moved from her face.