She rapped smartly on the door and the second officer moved in to back her up. I was edged sideways off the step. I was sweating with embarrassment as well as from the morning’s sickly heat.

The door opened at once to reveal Audrey. She looked smaller and frailer than she usually did. Her eyes travelled straight from the police to me and I knew she would assume this was my doing. I’d threatened it, but I hadn’t ever meant it.

‘Good morning,’ the policewoman said again. ‘Are you all right?’

I realised with a small shock that they were just as prepared for her to be a thuggish twelve-year-old’s hostage as they were for Jack to be a helpless kidnap victim.

‘Yes, thank you. Is there some problem?’

‘We understand you have a young man staying with you? This lady’s son?’

Audrey’s cold glance rested on me. There could be no doubt in her mind now that I was responsible for this invasion.

‘Audrey, I …’ I began.

‘That’s correct,’ Audrey agreed, cutting me short.

The police radios clattered on and the knot of bystanders was growing. The mountain bike man from next door was looking on from his doorstep.

‘Where is he now?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Well, he’s here, isn’t he? Jack!’ she called into the dim recess of the house.

The police and the neighbours and I formed an audience round the front door. Two cats slunk out, twisted between our legs and stepped daintily among the fossilised cardboard boxes.

His feet and legs plodded into view at the head of the stairs. We all craned forward. Jack came down slowly, reluctantly, one step at a time. His face, when I could see it, was a troubled mask.

‘I didn’t call the police, Jack. One of the neighbours did,’ I told him.

‘What’s going on here?’ the WPC asked.

He shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ He wouldn’t look at me.

The officers were losing interest. No one was hurt or being held captive in Turnmill Street. It was that great waster of police time, a domestic, and the radio clamour announced that there were bigger scenes brewing elsewhere. I could tell they were already preparing to withdraw when Audrey made the tactical error of protesting too much. ‘It’s the summer holidays, isn’t it? What harm can it do, if he wants to stay here with me?’

The policeman spoke for the first time. ‘By rights, he should be at home with his mum.’

‘I’m fine here,’ Jack mumbled. My heart twisted with sympathy for him because he couldn’t be seen to lose face by coming with me, nor did he want to reject me under the gaze of the police and the band of spectators. I would have given anything for this scene not to be happening.

‘You’re not a relative, are you?’ the WPC asked Audrey.