Danny stands in the kitchen in running shorts and nothing else. His hair is unaware he has company. It sticks out in every direction, framing a grumpy-looking face with swollen, half closed eyes.

‘Didn’t get much sleep last night?’ I say, taking up position on a high stool beside the island counter.

Danny’s house is the total opposite to Bert’s. It’s all mod cons here. Everything is controlled by a keypad, with a button for music, another for closing curtains or adjusting the temperature, and lots more.

‘I did sleep,’ he says, ‘for about ten minutes.’

‘Anyway, I came to see how Joanna is, not you.’

‘She’s fine, the baby’s fine, we’re all fine. Tired but fine.’

‘Good.’ I look around the room until he realizes that I have something else I want to ask.

‘Is there something wrong, Becca?’

But now I’m fumbling with the zip on my hoodie, wondering if I’m doing the right thing mentioning Katie Collins.

‘What is it?’ he says. His eyes are wide open now.

‘It’s about that girl, the one who’s missing.’

‘What missing girl?’ he says, walking over to the refrigerator. He opens the door and reaches for the orange juice, and is about to start drinking straight from the carton when I say, ‘Katie Collins.’

Orange juice goes spilling down his hairy chest. It’ll get sticky if he doesn’t get rid of it quickly.

‘Fuck,’ he says.

I stand up to find some napkins but I can’t see any, can’t find the button, and by then he’s walking out the door towards the bathroom. After a few minutes he comes back, wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘What was it you were saying? Some missing girl, was it?’

He pulls out a stool and sits opposite me.

‘Katie Collins,’ I say.

‘What about her?’

‘Well, the cops seem to think she’s looking for me.’

Danny stares. ‘Why would they think that, Becca?’

‘I don’t know. I’d never heard of her until I saw her on TV; they were saying she was missing. Next thing I know the cops are in Mattie’s, telling me she was looking for me before she vanished.’

I’m waiting for Danny to take charge, like he always does, but he only stares straight at me. Then he gets up and walks over to the glass doors, slides one open, and stands there gazing out over his yard.

‘Danny?’

He doesn’t turn. ‘What?’ he says.

‘What do you think I should do?’