‘We don’t know that for sure yet, Kath. We still have no idea what his involvement was. What he might have done.’

‘Well, we know he didn’t hurt her or Peter,’ she said, apparently oblivious. ‘And we know you do, too. Whatever happens, you saying what you did last week, it meant everything to us – me and Dad, the boys.’

At three forty-seven, the first wave of uniforms came flooding down the pavement. Hundreds of pairs of scissoring nylon trousers – someone should try and harness the static, she thought, renewable energy.

She scanned the kids as they streamed past, shouting and pushing. Their language was as bad as any she’d heard in the police – at RPG, they’d have been lined up and executed. Surely there was a happy medium to be found somewhere, wasn’t there? It occurred to her that it was probably her school, the grammar. Could she get Lennie in there in September, have her sit the test? But no, she wouldn’t need to. They’d be long gone by then, wouldn’t they, back to London – if not to the Met in her case, then somewhere.

Savvy’s was huge, over a thousand kids. They kept coming and coming, like a football stadium emptying out. She chose to interpret it as a good sign that Lennie wasn’t in the vanguard today, her need to flee the place at least marginally less urgent. By four, though, the torrent along the pavement had dwindled to a thin stream and she pinged her a text. I’m outside – where are you?

Five minutes later, having had no response, she rang Christine. ‘Mum, am I being stupid? Did you pick Len up just now?’

‘She was here for last period.’ Wheeze. ‘Definitely. I’ve just rung the staffroom. She had French. Mr Stratton. He had a full house, no one missing.’

‘Thanks for checking, Mrs Travis. I’m so sorry about this. Twice.’

‘Oh, call me Pam.’ Wheeze. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do, all right, love? I’ll be here until half six or so.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Hard, changing schools mid-term, but don’t worry, she’ll get there. Teething troubles, that’s all.’

Robin hung up and called Lennie again. Voicemail again. She called her mother back. ‘The school secretary says she was there until the end of the day this time. That’s something.’

‘Would she go to Adrian again, do you think?’

‘I don’t know. Not to try and get us back together but maybe for her own sake, to talk to him? But if she left at the end of school, she can’t have got far yet. If she’s going to London, she’ll be going to Moor Street, won’t she? We might even still catch her at Hall Green.’

‘On my way.’

‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll head for Moor Street – I’ll call Ade on the way.’