‘Is she OK? She wasn’t really herself yesterday.’

‘That was the pills. She’s not, like, come down yet this morning.’

‘How come you’re not at school, Alice?’

There was silence for a moment at the other end of the line.

‘Felt a bit like, sick, this morning.’ She said it without any conviction and I was almost certain that she was lying. ‘And mum needed looking after.’

‘I need a favour from you.’

More silence.

Then: ‘What favour?’

‘Your granny’s address in Sunderland. Do you have an address book handy?’

‘Why?’

‘It’s just something I need to know.’

‘Why can’t you tell me?’

‘It’s . . . delicate.’

‘Don’t treat me like I’m just a kid.’

But you are a kid, I thought.

Instead I said: ‘OK. I think your dad might be heading up there. Today.’

‘Why would he do that?’ She sounded surprised at the suggestion.

‘Not sure yet, but I’ve got a hunch that’s where he’s going.’

‘A hunch?’

‘An educated guess.’

‘I don’t think he’d go there.’

‘Really? What makes you say that?’

She paused before answering.

‘He’s like, always slagging it off and telling me how rough Sunderland is compared to where we live now. I speak to Gran more often than he does.’

‘I’m sure your gran will want him found too. Want to hear that he’s safe.’

‘S’pose so.’

‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help me find your dad? Anything at all?’

‘No,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Everything will be better,’ I said, ‘once we know your dad’s OK. That’s all I want.’

She didn’t reply.

‘Alice, are you there?’ I said.

‘It’s what I want, too,’ she said in a small voice.

‘So help me. To find him.’

There was a muffled click on the other end of the line, as if she had closed a door.

‘Are you going to sort everything out? Find my dad and bring him back?’

‘Alice, I’m going to do everything I possibly can to bring him back. I promise.’

‘I miss him,’ she said quietly.

Then she gave me the address.

Chapter 52

52

I couldn’t call from an identifiable mobile or from our home phone – it had to be from a number Ben couldn’t link to me. A number that was anonymous. But technology didn’t like anonymity. It liked to know where you were twenty-four hours a day, who you were calling, what you were buying, what websites you liked and who your friends were. Technology didn’t like secrecy, or discretion, or privacy. So how did you make a call nowadays that didn’t leave an electronic footprint on their phone, or yours, or on some computer server a thousand miles away?