Paul and I sat in our seats, staring at the buses pulling away from Colin’s stop and the cars lining up at the petrol station nearby. A few cellophane-sleeved bunches of pink and yellow carnations wilted in their bucket next to the newspaper stand. The Evening Standard headline was the same one that I had read with Paul, in Audrey’s garden, not much more than an hour ago. Time seemed to stretch and assume strange dimensions, distorted by heat and the aftermath of fear. There was a pain like a migraine behind my eyes and I told myself that it was just shock; there was nothing to worry about; Cassie was safe with the people who loved her.

Evelyn was still crying. Her racking sobs were interspersed with jagged gasps for breath. Together she and Penny were holding Cassie and the three of them made a tangle of arms and wrists and hair. Jerry loomed directly behind, frowning, his hands hanging loose at his sides. He looked as if he were ready to start blaming and accusing as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

The small search party was breaking up. As they turned away Penny touched people on the shoulder or briefly shook their hands in mute thanks, but she couldn’t speak or let go her hold of Cassie. An air of profound relief hung over the group, but there were no smiles or jokes. This outcome had been a good one, yet an unidentifiable threat still seemed close at hand, waiting in the wings of the sultry evening. It must be the promise of thunder. The lead-grey, swollen sky loomed too close to the rooftops.

‘Let’s go inside,’ Penny murmured. A police panda car waited in front of the house and now an officer was coming towards us.

Evelyn said to Cassie, ‘Let’s take that pretty yellow frock off, shall we? You don’t want it to get all dirty, do you?’

The policeman wanted me to make a statement. He took off his cap and I sat down facing him at the kitchen table. In the background Penny mechanically switched on the kettle, clinked ice cubes into glasses, trying to occupy herself.

I told him what had happened at Colin’s and he wrote it down. I didn’t say anything about the photographs, the lost daughter and sister.

‘I see. You glimpsed the man at the bus stop and he is a customer of yours. He knows the child.’

‘A little. Hardly at all.’

‘Anything else?’

I shook my head and the policeman closed his notebook. We were advised that Cassie’s doctor should take a look at her as soon as possible, although it seemed very unlikely that there had been any physical interference. A social worker would call to see Evelyn and the community officer and another social worker would visit Colin and his mother. Unless there were any unexpected findings or concerns, that would probably be all.