‘I’d have been three years old. Joe Simpson, right? I’m aware of him. Everyone is. Shit happens here all the time, but nothing on that scale since I’ve been here, thank God. I know there are a couple of the guys who are still around from those days. You’d be surprised at how much people don’t move on. You could try having a word with Pete – he’s on duty today. You’ll find him round the outside of Boots, in plain clothes. Older guy. Been here forever. Tell him I sent you over. I’m Dan. He’s a grumpy sod.’

‘Thanks, Dan,’ I said. ‘How will I know it’s him?’

‘Old. Lanky. Scowly. Don’t tell him I said that. Knackered, poor guy.’ Dan pointed. ‘Look. Over there. Jeans and blue fleece. He thinks dressing like that means he doesn’t stand out.’

Pete was nowhere near as nice as Dan. Scowly had been an understatement, and he was a bit too tall for comfort. He loomed over me and I took half a step back, then wished I hadn’t.

‘Your cousin?’ he said. ‘So you’d be who?’

Joe had told me what to say if this came up, though I hadn’t expected it so soon.

‘I actually would have been his second cousin. I’m Alice. My mum is his dad’s cousin. I never met him. I do know Gus and Abby and the girls. I babysit for them. Do you know the family?’

‘Bit,’ he said. ‘Enough. I just wanted to check you weren’t a journo. You couldn’t be, though, could you? Unless you’re working for Newsround. Or the Beano.’

He chuckled in a dismissive way and I was suddenly furious. How dare he be so patronizing and horrible?

‘Dan said you were working when Joe disappeared.’ I glared at him as if he was a suspect, and, for all I knew, maybe he was. He was the only person I’d met who had been in the same place as Joe that afternoon.