‘Shit!’ They looked at each other, a moment of shared communication. If Susan was following the conversation, she gave no sign of it. She was sitting in a low chair close to the Aga, knitting something small and pink. The wool lay in a basket at her feet.

‘I can probably find it for you,’ Laurie said. ‘Not sure it’s entirely legal, though, poking around in the system. Hacking into social services.’

‘Sod legal!’ Vera saw that Laurie was enjoying this. ‘Look, I’ll take responsibility. Just find that address.’

Laurie grinned and disappeared. In the chair in the corner Susan gave a little smile and continued to knit. She hadn’t acknowledged Vera’s presence. Was this one of her less coherent days? Or was she pretending to be distant and slow so that she wouldn’t be asked to leave the Haven?

‘Tell me about Ricky Butt, Susan,’ Vera said. ‘You knew him, didn’t you? He was Val’s son and he lived with her in the Coble.’

Susan looked up from her knitting. Her eyes were cloudy. Vera thought she must still be on medication. Vera had read about people becoming addicted to tranquillizers, and Susan had been taking drugs for decades.

‘Ricky Butt,’ Vera prompted.

‘Margaret’s boss,’ Susan said.

‘Was he? Her pimp? He wanted to be.’

‘She hated him,’ Susan said. ‘And so did I.’

Vera had a sudden thought. ‘Were you at the Coble the night of Billy Kerr’s birthday party?’ she asked. ‘The night there was the fire at the yard?’

Susan closed her eyes a moment, as if she was making an effort to remember. But before she could speak Laurie bounced back into the room with a scrap of paper in her hand. ‘Here’s the address,’ she said. ‘A piece of piss. You should tell them they need better security.’

Outside it felt colder. The wind came from the east and tasted metallic, like ice. Vera’s phone went. It was Joe.

‘Joe.’ Almost faint with hope. If anything happened to his child he’d leave the police service and he’d never speak to her again. And didn’t that prove that she was the most selfish cow in the world? A child was in danger, but she could only think about losing the sole person who came close to being a friend. ‘Any news?’

‘Not yet.’

Vera said nothing. Any words would provoke him to further outrage.

‘But I think I know who we’re looking for now.’

He gave a name and a reason for believing it. Confirmation. ‘Ah, Joe man, great minds think alike.’

‘You’d got there already?’ Even in his grief she could tell that he had a moment of disappointment.

‘Something someone said. You?’

‘The same. Then a memory to confirm it. I feel like a fool.’