I followed her to a suite upstairs. She wore no jewellery and no make-up, and her hair was pulled back tightly under the hijab.

‘Please, have a seat,’ she murmured, taking off her jacket, and I perched on the edge of the armchair, waiting. Her skin was fascinating: smooth and shiny like marble. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I said. The sitting room of the suite was understated and furnished beautifully for a hotel, the smell from a huge vase of pink roses pervading the air; the door to the bedroom shut tight.

The main door opened and a suave man walked in; the girl immediately slunk into the background. I recognised him from the petrol station the other night. Only, when I looked closer, there was something familiar about his handsome face – something that still eluded me.

‘Mrs Miller?’ He extended a hand. ‘Ash Kattan.’

We shook hands.

‘Who – was it you who contacted me then?’

‘I believe you met Maya again yesterday. Maya and her doctor.’

Ash resembled his sister, tawny-skinned and sleek, though he looked more like his father than she did, perhaps. Only his round eyes were very different, more protuberant than Hadi’s, less veiled and far lighter. Reminiscent of someone else. I just couldn’t think who.

‘Yes, I did, very briefly.’ I wondered uneasily if the family also knew I’d called the police yesterday.

‘I think my father was surprised that you returned to Albion Manor when he had asked –’ he smiled – ‘well, you know.’

‘Asked me to leave?’ I helped him out. I thought I heard a noise from the other room, but he didn’t react. My heart beat a little faster. I wondered whether anyone was in London with them, and then I despised myself for hoping it might be Danny.

‘Yes. He can be quite – formidable, my father.’

‘Well, the thing is – Maya, she—’ I didn’t want to get his sister into yet more trouble. Quickly I backtracked. ‘I went to the house because, well, I thought I should make sure that your dad really didn’t want to speak to me again. I was hoping to write about him, you see. He’s such an interesting man, and the local community would be so fascinated by his life.’

Ash stood and walked to the flowers, which he studied for a moment. Flattery was getting me nowhere, that was obvious.

‘Mrs Miller.’ Ash Kattan had a low attractive voice, a voice that was used to speaking and being heard. I wondered how his political campaign was going, if he was after Eddie Johnson’s seat. Something told me he had bigger ambitions.