‘She’s nineteen,’ I say, remembering the night Paul made absolutely sure before taking her home.

‘How do you know?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Look, Mum, I can’t talk, I need to make a phone call.’

‘Oh, sorry, love, are you on a job? It’s just I couldn’t believe my eyes, I had to tell someone.’

‘Okay, look. I’ll call you back.’‘Okay, okay. Go on then. And I just wanted to say thank you, too. I know last night was hard, but thank you for coming out with us. It meant a lot to me. Derek and I had a lovely time.’

Derek and I. Derek and I.

‘Me too, Mum.’ I hope I sound more enthusiastic than I feel.

A tourist-filled steam cruiser lets out a long, low horn sound. ‘Where are you?’ she asks.

‘I’m… in the Lakes,’ I say quietly.

‘The Lakes!’ she shrieks. ‘What are you doing up there? You never said! Are you okay, Rhys? You sound a bit… What’s happened?’ Her voice shifts from indignation to concern.

‘It was a last-minute decision,’ I say, climbing back into my van. ‘Basically, Susan went missing overnight. She’d given me something to post, but for some reason, when I heard she’d gone I…’ I rest my forehead against the steering wheel. ‘Shit, Mum, I’ve made a right mess of this.’

‘Oh, Rhys,’ Mum says. I picture her resting against the sink, turning her back on the net curtains as a real problem unfolds.

‘I need to call the hospital. Let them know what I’ve done.’ I look over at the letter.

‘Okay, love. Okay. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. They’ll find her, they will…’ Mum sounds less convinced than I’d like. ‘It’ll all work out.’ She and I both know that isn’t always the case. ‘I’ll hang up then,’ she says, reluctantly. ‘Keep me posted.’

The line goes dead. I dig deep for the backbone to put this right, then dial Kat. It goes straight to voicemail. ‘Kat, it’s Rhys. I’ve been an idiot. I’m in the Lakes, about to hand deliver a letter Susan wrote and gave to me for posting. Call me as soon as possible?’ I pause, then hang up. There’s nothing more I can add to make this sound better.

I try searching my phone for the hospital number, but it isn’t saved in my call list. I search the internet for Sheffield Hospitals, but there’s no 3G by the lake. No connection at all. I sit in the car for a moment, dread and regret seeping from every sweating pore. I lift the letter, holding it up to the light again, turning it over to read the address. What was going through her mind when she wrote this? When she gave it to me? What is the point of it? Have we made any difference to her state of mind, or is this her final act? I don’t know why, but there was something about the book, the way she held it… Whatever connection it gave her seemed strong. I thought she was going to be okay. I really did.