Elinor was in her favourite armchair, legs curled under her, knitting in her lap. The pair of them were watching Shaun of the Dead. Paula wasn’t sure it was the best viewing for a boy whose mother was missing, but presumably Torin and Elinor had chosen it between them.

As she entered, Torin straightened up, his face stripped of teen anomie, naked anxiety exposed for anyone to see. ‘Has my mum turned up?’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve got no more news.’ Seeing the crestfallen look on his face, Paula wished she had something else to offer. She perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘I know you’re going to want to shout at me for even asking, but are you totally sure she didn’t say anything to you about any plans to meet someone?’

He glared at her. ‘I told you. No. And even if she had and I missed it, she’d still have texted me to remind me. She always does. She says I never listen, so she always does a back-up.’ His lower lip trembled and he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand. ‘But she’s wrong anyway. I do listen.’

‘I’m sure you do, Torin,’ Elinor said. She paused the DVD.

‘So what are your lot doing to find her?’ Torin demanded, belligerence a cover for his fear. His shoulders hunched defensively inside his thin shirt.

‘The information I took from you this morning will have been put on the computer and circulated nationally. Tomorrow, they’ll get started on the painstaking stuff of tracking down friends, checking out any activity on her bank accounts and credit cards.’

‘Why are they waiting so long? Why aren’t they doing it right now?’ His voice was a howl of outrage.

Because it’s not a priority. Because they’d rather be at the football. Because nobody else is worried about her the way you are. ‘Because these things are all easier to do during normal working hours,’ Paula said. Elinor’s raised eyebrows told her what her partner thought of that pale excuse. Guilt-tripped, Paula said, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, if you like. I’ll go round to your house tonight and put together all the stuff they’ll need so they can get started right away in the morning. How does that sound?’

He chewed the skin on the side of his thumb. ‘OK, I suppose.’

‘Where does she keep stuff like bank statements and her passport? Do you know?’

‘There’s, like, a boxroom between her bedroom and the bathroom. It’s a cupboard really, but my dad fitted it out like an office. Built a desk in and everything. All our official stuff’s in the bottom drawer.’

‘Thanks. I’ll need to pick up some clothes for you too, if you’re going to stay with us. Is it OK for me to go into your room?’