‘Do you think that did any good?’ he asks, his face pale and waxy, his forehead sweaty. I avert my eyes.

‘I think it’s better than doing nothing,’ I say, knotting my hands together.

‘But do you think it’ll jog anyone’s memory?’ he persists. ‘Do you think seeing a kid who looks slightly like Laurel will lead anyone to actually remembering something important? Something that could get her back?’

‘I . . . don’t know,’ I stutter, unnerved by the intensity of his cold, blue eyes as he stares at me. Does he think I had something to do with this? A chill runs down my spine at the thought. I can’t go through it all again – I can’t be held responsible for something I didn’t do. ‘Possibly. I don’t know, Dominic, because I don’t know what happened to Laurel.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ He snatches up a glass that sits on the mantelpiece, rolling it in one palm before he flings it onto the marble hearth, shards shattering across the floor. I flinch, fear making my pulse race in my chest.

‘Dominic . . .’ I hold up my hands, trying to stop my fingers from shaking, ‘please, calm down.’ Kelly appears in the doorway and I give her a frantic look. I won’t know what to do if he loses it completely and starts smashing the room up. Kelly takes him by the arm and gently guides him to the armchair, as he scrubs his hands over his face, apologising for losing his temper, muttering under his breath. While Kelly murmurs to him, I sneak out to the garden where I can see Fran’s outline illuminated through the glass of the back door by the outside light. Hissing as the chilly night air hits my bare arms, I step out on to the patio and Fran turns.

‘Anna. I thought it was going to be that bloody spy, Kelly. I’ve told her I don’t want to speak to her,’ she says, a lit cigarette in one hand. She catches my gaze and wafts it towards me. ‘Do you want one?’

I take one from the pack, the smoke tickling the back of my throat and making me want to cough as soon as I inhale. I haven’t smoked since Scotland. Since that night. The taste of the ashy nicotine on my tongue makes my head swim and my stomach roll. I don’t puff again, but hold the cigarette loosely between my fingers.

‘She’s only here to help,’ I say, defending Kelly. ‘She’s in there with Dominic now. He . . . he lost his temper a little bit.’