‘Oh, come on, give me a break. I played for the first team for years. And we used to come here when we were courting. It seemed the obvious place, neutral territory. What’s it matter?’

Megan stared at the glass in his hand. ‘What are you drinking?’

He placed his half-empty glass on the bar, throwing his hands up. ‘It’s water, just fucking water. Taste it if you want to. Do you really think I’d get pissed with Lottie missing fuck knows where?’

Megan frowned hard, and for a moment he thought she may start weeping. ‘I don’t know, Dale, you’ve changed so very much in recent months. I don’t know what to think any more; life’s been blown apart.’

‘Do you want a drink or what?’

‘I can’t eat, I can’t drink, I’ve thrown up more times than I care to count. My stomach’s doing somersaults. I’ve been walking the streets for hours, just looking, just hoping I’d spot her. Why would I want a drink?’

‘I’m talking about a soft drink. Don’t read anything into it. We’ve got a difficult time ahead of us. You’ve got to keep your strength up.’

Megan sat at the nearest table, shoulders bunched, arms folded across her chest. ‘My mum said much the same thing when I rang her.’

‘So, what are you going to have?’

‘Get me a coffee. I’ll try to force it down.’

‘Good girl, that’s the spirit. Milk and sugar?’

Megan nodded, dabbing at her tear-stained eyes with a paper hankie taken from her bag. There was audible stress in her voice when she spoke. ‘I really couldn’t give a toss. Anything will do. However it comes.’

Dale ordered, paid, and joined Megan at the table. ‘There you go, love. Try your best to drink it before it goes cold. You look as if you could do with it.’

She chose to ignore his use of the endearment. There were bigger battles to fight. ‘Why am I here, Dale? You said it was urgent. You’d better not be wasting my time, not now, not with all this going on. I’d never forgive you if you are.’

He lowered his eyes, fighting to control his emotions, focusing on the beer-stained carpet at his feet for a beat before speaking again. ‘I’ve… err… I’ve made some posters on the computer. I printed them off. Twenty to start with. But I can make more if we need them. I’d just need to buy some more ink.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Posters, posters of Lottie, you know, saying she’s missing and telling anyone who knows anything to contact the police as a matter of urgency. I thought you might think it’s a good idea.’

Megan gripped the table’s edge with both hands, clinging on as if for life itself. ‘Look me in the eye, Dale. I need you to tell me you didn’t take Lottie. I need you to swear it on your mother’s life. I need to hear you say it right here and now to my face. And I’ll know if you’re telling me the truth. You never were a very good liar.’