Before we can say any more, there is the buzz of his doorbell. George doesn’t bother to ask who it is before he gives up on the bag and presses the button to let them into the building. A minute later, Maxine is in the room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a low knot at her neck, her face make-up free and so exposed it makes me blink.

The first words out of her mouth are, ‘George, get something to clean Holly’s leg.’

I follow their eyes to my knee, which is covered in dried blood that snakes down to my shoe. Zac had noticed it too, I remember.

As soon as George has disappeared into the bathroom, I say, ‘Are you MI5, Maxine, or GCHQ like George?’

‘MI5, but this is an area where the two agencies are providing mutual assistance. We’re more likely to get a result in this case by cooperating and pooling our collection efforts.’

The blood-red hate I felt for her has vanished. Martin is a more deserving target, but the impulse to hate or blame any of them has gone flat. ‘What do you want from me? You must want something, to be confiding in me after all this time.’

‘It’s not what we want from you. It’s what we can do for you.’

‘Really . . .’ I say, clearly unconvinced.

She allows herself a small smile. ‘We can help you back into your old life – your contact with Milly shows you can’t continue like this. Not to mention the fact that your set-up in Bath has fallen apart.’

‘I’d noticed.’

‘And yes, since you mention it, there’s something you might be able to help us with, depending on whether they keep Zac. Your hold on him has clearly not diminished.’

‘You can’t seriously think he’ll be out any time soon?’

‘Doubtful. But we don’t need to talk details yet.’

‘We don’t need to talk details ever. I will never have anything to do with Zac again. I certainly won’t be asking him to put me on his prison visitors’ list.’

‘Let’s deal with what you need from us right now.’ She goes on. ‘George is a genius at getting us into the places we want to visit, and exiting with no trace.’

‘So I gather.’

George walks in, clutching a bottle of antiseptic and a handful of cotton wool. He kneels at my feet, dabbing my knee with antiseptic.

‘Thank you.’ My voice is so soft I am taken by surprise. When he’s finished, I say, ‘Can you get into some medical databases? I need to find a baby girl who was born in Montenegro – in Podgorica. The birthday is May eighteenth, 2017.’

‘I need the parents’ names, Holly.’ He sits in his desk chair. ‘By the way, I like saying your real name.’

‘So do I. The parents are Eliza Wilmot and Zac Hunter.’

‘Righty-ho.’

‘George?’

‘Yes?’