That will have to do, I think to myself as I take the paper and pencil over to the bed and sit down. Turning to the blank side, I make a list of people who may know where Sean could be. My hands feel shaky at first, and the first few lines are barely legible.

I start with Rob Daniels, Sean’s desk partner at work. They got on well enough though I wouldn’t say they were the best of friends. He lives in Surrey but has a flat in London. Maybe he let Sean stay there?

Number two: Colin Greaves, Saffy and Alexandra’s dad. Of all the parents at the school, Colin was the one Sean made time to chat to at parties and parents’ evenings. He worked for a recruitment consultancy in Brighton and was a huge Spurs fan. I remember he once gave Sean a spare ticket to accompany him to a match at White Hart Lane. Sean had been so busy work-wise this last year that he let the friendship drift. Just like he was letting everything drift, I think.

I pause to give my hand a rest before going on to number three: Alan Hamilton, Sean’s friend from university. They had shared a house in his final year, and though they lost touch after graduating, Sean had bumped into him on the tube a couple of years ago and they’d met up for drinks a few times since. The last I heard he was working for Lambeth Council. I write the words ‘long shot’ in capital letters next to his name.

Then, finally, Hester Trueman: Sean’s aunt. She lives in Portsmouth and must be in her eighties now. As his only living relative, maybe he contacted her to tell her about Elspeth’s death? I jot down the name of the village where she lives. I have no idea what her address is but Google may be able to help.

But then I remember. I can’t google because I don’t have a phone or a laptop. I throw the paper and pencil at the wall in frustration. This is hopeless, I think to myself as I flop back on the bed.