“Woah woah woah, hold on, Jakey.”

Whatever had Cara’s attention outside has lost it now. She’s turned back, her head pressed against the headrest, staring straight ahead, the faintest smile on her lips. I turn to her, mouth “Sorry.” She shakes her head to show she doesn’t mind. She’s listening, how could she not? I’ve already had a £250 fine and three points for talking to Jakey on the phone while driving but there’s no way I’m hanging up on him. It’s the best part of my day.

“Jakey, mate, if your mum doesn’t like you playing the game she must have her reasons. How was school today?”

But Jakey ignores my question. “No, Dad, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, she just got ragey and changed the Wi-Fi so I can’t log on to it anymore without her putting in a password.”

I could listen to him all day, even when he’s moaning.

“Your mum has a point, Jakey. I mean, you know that you have to be careful of strangers on the internet, we’ve talked about that before. She’s just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, but he’s twelve and he lives in Hong Kong!” He punctuates the words like I’m still learning what they mean.

“You don’t know that for sure. Besides, your mum will be more nervous than usual. You heard what happened?”

“Yeah.” His tone drops, his voice softens. “You mean that girl. She’s sick, right?”

“Yes, Jakey, yes she is.” Although now in remission, Jakey hates hearing about other sick children. He knows better than anyone how sickness, real sickness, strikes at random.

“You knew her, the missing girl, didn’t you, Dad? Are you helping the police find her?” I feel Cara shift beside me but don’t look at her.

“Something like that, yeah.”

In the background Ruth calls my son’s name. I picture her at the bottom of the stairs, one foot resting on the penultimate step, her short, wavy hair pinned behind her ears. I dress her in jeans and a simple white T-shirt, always my favorite outfit on Ruth. She calls again.

“Well, she’s lucky she’s got you helping her, Dad. Gotta go, speak tomorrow, yeah?”

“OK, Jakey.” Ruth doesn’t know he calls me every day. “I love you,” I add, but he’s already hung up. My phone clatters as I drop it into the pocket in my car door.

In the passenger seat, Cara’s turned fully towards me. She’s staring at me, studying me as though I’ve suddenly grown a snout or wings out of my ears.

“What?” I ask, darting my gaze from her to the road and back again. She doesn’t flinch. Have I got a sandwich crumb on my face or something? I strain to look in the rearview mirror but it’s hard to see with my beard and I don’t want to creep into the car in front.

“What?” I ask again.

But she just shakes her head and stares out of the windshield. I recognize this silence, how she shifts around in her seat. It’s like she’s had an idea. Ruth always told me I go quiet and stare when I have a realization that I’m not ready to share. It’s odd, but I see parts of myself in Cara. She has a determination for the truth, and a willingness to take risks, both of which I’ve always had in spades. As we drive to see Grace’s granddad I realize I’m glad Cara’s next to me and for the first time in a long while I feel a little less alone.