I tried to pull away, but his grip on my hand tightened. At the same time, his other hand grabbed my forearm. I looked around in panic. The street was deserted. Not good. Not good at all. I’m five foot eight, and fairly strong. The old man was smaller than me, but he was solid and stocky. Though I tried pulling away again, he held me still. I thought about pushing him, which might have had no effect. Or, worse, might have toppled him like a skittle. I looked down again. After a moment, I realised that the man was weeping.

‘I have to show you something. I-I-I’ll explain everything but there isn’t much time,’ he said. ‘It’s about my daughter.’

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘But we have to cross the river now or we’ll be in trouble.’

We trudged through the darkness and the driving rain, heads down, battling the gusts. As we crossed the bridge, the black water slapped violently against the quay wall.

‘We’ll go into Forde’s,’ I said, shouting over the roar of the river.

I pushed open the door and we fell into the warm gloom. The storm meant that the pub was quiet for a Friday, but Forde’s is never raucous, it’s a place for respectable drinking. The table nearest the door was free and I made for it, peeling off my sopping raincoat. The old man went straight to the bar and I joined him after a moment.

‘What’ll you have?’ he asked.

‘Just a pot of tea, no milk or sugar, please,’ I said.

‘I’m after ordering a hot whiskey,’ said the man.

‘Barry’s Tea will do me grand,’ I said.

Get this over with fast is what I thought.

I returned to the table and sat, back to the wall, with a view of the room. After a few minutes, the man came and sat opposite me. He had taken off his cap. He was bald with a semicircle of tufty grey hair.

‘We can’t do much tonight, not here,’ I said. ‘But I can take a few preliminary notes and give you an appointment to come into the office next week.’

I was thinking about the whiskey, wondering if it was his first of the day. Whether it was or not, I wasn’t going to be acting immediately on any instructions he gave me. My professional indemnity insurance doesn’t stretch that far. I poked in my handbag and dug out a small black notebook, a business card and a biro.

‘Now,’ I said. ‘Let’s start with your name, address and contact details, and here are mine.’

I slid my card across the table.

‘Though obviously you know how to find me.’

The man stayed silent.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘I know you’re nervous, but you’re the one who said it was an emergency. And you said it was important, something about your daughter?’