‘Look, I know you don’t know me, that I could be anybody, but please, Katrina . . . I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I know that he loves his garden, and his grandchildren.’ I think for a moment, picturing him coughing into his hanky. ‘I know that he’s not well at the moment, and that you’re worried about him.’

Katrina frowns and I think, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but then the door is pulled open and she reluctantly nods behind her, her eyes still narrowed with suspicion. ‘Come in then. Only for five minutes mind, and only because it’s raining so hard.’

I follow her through into a cramped sitting room, toys littered across the floor. A small boy sits amongst them driving a car round and round in circles. He looks up at me and smiles, his face a tiny replica of his mother’s.

‘So,’ Katrina says, throwing herself in to an armchair, ‘if you know my dad as well as you say you do, then you know what’s happened to him.’

‘Yes,’ I say, unsure whether to sit or not. In the end I settle for perching on the end of the couch, where the small boy immediately starts driving the toy car up and over my leg. ‘That’s what I wanted to ask you about . . . see, I know the little girl who is missing.’

‘Right.’ She sits up straighter in the chair and I think maybe she’s changed her mind about letting me in.

‘I . . . I’m her nanny. I look after her.’

‘I know what a nanny does, thanks,’ she snaps at me and I realise I’m going to have to speak fast before she throws me out.

‘I was the one who got Laurel speaking to your dad. We’d pass him every morning, and we got chatting. He’s . . . I thought he was a nice man, but then the police took him in and said he was “helping with enquiries” and . . . well, I did some research and I read about what he did to you.’

‘He is a nice man,’ Katrina says, quietly. Her voice is low, but I can see a tiny spark of anger flicker in her dark eyes. ‘What you read – it didn’t happen the way they said it did.’

I lick my lips nervously, before I speak again. ‘Katrina . . . do you think your dad has anything to do with Laurel’s disappearance? If there was anything, anything at all, that you think could help me . . . I have to get her back – this is all my fault. If I hadn’t . . .’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Katrina’s eyes widen in disbelief, as she shakes her head. ‘I thought you said you knew him?’

‘Well, as an acquaintance,’ I say, trailing off, my eyes drawn down to the little boy at my feet.