‘My cars!’ William cried, reaching out with both hands as he tried to squirm out of my grip.

‘We’ll go back for them,’ I said breathlessly.

We hit the first floor and I turned and leaped onto the next escalator down to the ground floor, running down it full pelt, William bumping against my hip, his arms tight around me, clinging on. I jumped the last two steps, skidded, turned, and sprinted out into middle of the main atrium – where Ben would have been when he took the last picture.

A frowning security guard looked over at the commotion, arms crossed.

Mel looked alarmed to see me.

‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’

‘He was here,’ I panted. ‘Did you see him?’

She shook her head.

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Christ. Well he certainly saw you. And me.’

‘Where? When?’

‘Just now, not more than a minute ago. He was right here, he took your picture. You sure you didn’t see him?’

‘I didn’t recognise anyone. I’m sorry, Joe.’

‘Damn! Thought we had him.’

The frustration was bitter in my mouth. Ben had just played me to perfection. Again.

‘Damn,’ William repeated, imitating me. ‘Damn damn damn. Can we get my cars now?’

I sat in the passenger seat of Mel’s VW on the way home. I wanted to drive, but Mel took one look at me, the frustration coming off me in waves, and refused point-blank to let me drive in that state with our child in the back.

Think. There were two possibilities, as far as I could tell. It was possible that he had seen me first and realised it was a set-up.

Either that or he had been warned in advance.

Chapter 47

47

William was sluggish with drowsiness, wanting to be helped with everything. I took his coat off and knelt to help him with his shoes, all the while watching my wife out of the corner of my eye, waiting until she had taken her jacket off and put her handbag down on the hall table.

‘Could you put Wills to bed tonight?’ I said. ‘I need a drink.’

She nodded and leaned down to him, arms outstretched.

‘Of course. Come on, little chimp.’

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘Go on then, if you’re having one.’

William allowed himself to be picked up, clinging to Mel like a limpet, head on her shoulder straight away. Quarter to nine was a late night for him. Mel turned and headed slowly up the stairs, William mumbling something about having a story into her neck.

‘You’re too tired for a story, William.’

Our son made a noise like he didn’t agree but was too tired to argue.

I walked through into the kitchen noisily and deliberately. Took my shoes off and tiptoed back into the hall, in time to see Mel reach the top of the staircase and turn right onto the landing, out of sight.