She’d underlined ‘Only talk to Danny’ three times. Whatever’s supposed to be going down, that part is clearly not up for negotiation. As for the location, there’s a scribble prefacing ‘alley’ – a word beginning with a D, maybe a B; that’s the best Will can tell. Narrowing his search on Google Maps to alleys and passages with names beginning with those letters, he discovered over twenty possible candidates within a two-mile radius of home. Not that this matters a great deal to Will. Because, as mysterious and unsettling as he finds the message, he has absolutely no intention of acting upon it.

Nain’s recovery since that day has been close to miraculous and she’s expected to be going home soon. Will’s mum and Danny have been fascinated by how it must feel having your heart deliberately stopped – ‘being technically dead’, as his brother keeps putting it. They’ve quizzed Nain on the subject but she can remember nothing from when she was wheeled out of her room before the procedure until she awoke after dark that evening. Will hasn’t mentioned the note to her, certain that she’ll have no memory of it.

Two roads away from Nain’s place now, Will stands outside a chalet bungalow similar to hers but smaller, and in a far worse state of repair. Crossing an overgrown lawn littered with toys, he takes a deep breath when he reaches the front door. Isn’t Alfie always telling him to swing by? Drop in, have a beer? Surely there’s no need to be nervous – this is what people do, right?

A small face appears at waist height as the door jams open as far as the safety chain will allow. The little girl is dressed as Batman and has Nutella spread halfway to her ears. She gazes up at Will in fascination but neither of them speak.

‘Who is it?’ a voice calls from inside – a child, but older-sounding than the girl, who is surely five at most.

The chain rattles free and a young replica of Alfie looks him up and down.

‘S’up, mate?’

Another two kids emerge from a side room from where a telly blares, both standing in the narrow hallway and looking at Will. ‘Who’s that?’ one asks to no one in particular.

‘Ask him,’ the girl at the door whispers back before returning her smiling attention to Will.

‘It’s … I’m just here to …’

‘Parks!’ Alfie shouts, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘How splendid to see you. Get inside, you lanky bastard! Mind your head on … everything.’

As Will sidles along the hallway, Alfie instructs each of his siblings in turn to say hello to him, including a fifth one who’s sitting under the kitchen table reading some Terry Pratchett.