He heard Sean walk through the house and into the kitchen, listened to the unmistakable sound of ice clinking in a glass, the rattling of bottles as Sean opened the fridge.

Patrick closed the door behind him and walked down the front path.

There was a stout woman standing on the other side of the wall, smoking a cigarette, a couple of supermarket carrier bags at her feet. It was Sean’s mother. She was wearing smartish clothes, the sort of clothes that Pat’s own mum wore – M&S or BHS or Next – but looked as though she would be more comfortable in a shell suit. What was her name? Eileen, that was it. Watching her smoke made him crave a real cigarette and he had to use all his willpower, and a couple of sucks on his e-fag, to stop himself from cadging one off her.

‘Mrs Philips?’

She scrutinised him. ‘You’re that detective.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Are you any closer to finding her yet?’ She coughed and took another drag, the wrinkles around her lips deepening.

He didn’t want to get her hopes up; there was still plenty of opportunity for this all to go wrong.

‘Not yet.’

The older woman frowned and dropped her cigarette, grinding it out with her toe. ‘Do you believe that people can be cursed, detective?’

He was taken aback by the question. ‘Cursed?’

‘Yes. Like a family, I mean. Cursed by bad luck. People might look at Sean’s nice house and think he’s been lucky. He came from nothing, you know. We were so poor you couldn’t imagine it. But he’s worked bleedin’ hard to get all this.’ She gestured around her. ‘And now look what’s happened. Poor little Frankie snatched by god knows who, Alice gone off the rails . . .’

Patrick wondered how much Eileen knew about what Alice had been up to, or if she knew about the arrest, and that Alice had chosen not to come home after the police had released her.

‘I don’t believe in curses, Mrs Philips. But I get how people can start to feel like that, that everything has gone wrong for them.’

Eileen picked up her shopping. ‘I’m wondering if anything’s ever going to go right.’

‘Hold on, before you go.’ Patrick produced his phone. ‘Can you take a look at this picture for me, see if you recognise the woman?’

She rolled her eyes like it was a terrible hardship. At first she glanced at the photo. Then she snapped her head back to look at it again. After that, she stared, her mouth open, her yellow teeth on full display.

‘Oh my word,’ she said, her voice deep with shock.

Patrick tried to contain his excitement. ‘You recognise her?’

Eileen Philips fumbled in her bag for another cigarette and lit it. Like her son five minutes before, her hands shook.

‘That’s Sean’s ex-wife.’

‘What?’

‘That’s Alice’s mum.’