His eyes are focused on mine as he points to a sticker in the window. He’s about my height, similar build. But he has that air that fathers have, like proper grown-ups. I’ve often wondered if that arrives when the child is born – here’s your baby and with it, a book on ‘How to adult.’ He peers at me again, shakes his head and steps back to close the door.

‘Wait.’ I put my hand out to stop him, resting a still sweaty palm on the glass panel of the door. ‘I’m not selling anything.’

James pauses, looking at the glass as he pulls the door back open. I resist the urge to wipe it clean. ‘I’m here about a friend of yours. Well, I think she’s a friend. Sorry, it’s a bit… Are you James Grey?’ The man narrows his eyes slightly, trying to work me out. ‘Mr James Grey?’

‘Yes.’ He nods, slowly.

He folds his arms, resting against his front door. I hold out the letter, his name, in Susan’s handwriting, facing up. He peers at it, but doesn’t take it.

‘It’s a long story. And probably, now I’m stood here telling you, it’s a little unbelievable too. But it has happened and that is why I’m here.’ James looks at me as if a load of shit has just escaped my mouth and I have to accept it probably does appear that way. I try again. I try better. For her sake. ‘There is a woman in a hospital in Sheffield. She won’t talk but she wrote you this. I think. And, well, I say she’s in hospital, but actually she disappeared. This morning. We’re trying to find her.’

‘Sheffield?’ he asks, his arms still folded. I nod. The girl that answered the door has now come out of the room at the back of the house and is watching me fall over my words. The dog sniffs at my feet.

‘Yes, sir. Sheffield.’ I’m not sure that calling him sir was altogether necessary. I try to shuffle on the spot without standing on the dog.

‘Dawn, go and put the kettle on, please. I’ll be through in a minute.’

‘But—’

‘Thank you.’

His authority is sudden and clear. Dawn heads up the stairs, watching me over her shoulder. She mutters something to someone out of sight. All I hear is ‘Dad’ and ‘door’ and ‘weirdo’. Under the circumstances, it’s an astute assessment.

‘So, what does this have to do with me?’ asks James.

‘Honestly? I don’t know.’ I cough to clear my tight throat. ‘I don’t know her that well. She was a customer.’ I shift uncomfortably on the spot. ‘I’m a plumber.’ He doesn’t need this detail but I don’t know what else to say. I think she may or may not be my mother, but I’m not entirely sure probably wouldn’t help my cause. And besides, I still don’t know if I can say that aloud.

‘She had my number in her diary when she was taken into hospital. In the absence of any next of kin, they called me…’