Robin took a sip of his Coke. “How much is it?”

“Forty-five per night.”

Robin spluttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Forty-five pounds.”

“Right. How much is breakfast, then?”

“Breakfast is included.”

Robin looked from her to Jim. Jim was chuckling. “Right?” he said, wondering why it was so cheap.

“Things aren’t so expensive here, huh?” she said. “You’re a bona fide city boy, aren’t ya?”

“You could say that,” Robin said uncomfortably.

The barmaid was called away by someone demanding another pint in shaky tones and Robin said goodbye to Jim, locating the narrow stairs that went to the basement. He made his way down, emerging into a snug small stone room with a roaring fireplace, tables around the edges and a plush red rug laid out on the floor. A golden retriever was lying in front of the fire on a leash that ran along the floor and disappeared under a table in the corner where a family—a father, a mother and two children—were poring over a large map. The basement was just as busy as the upper level, but at least no one was standing around. There was only one table free and Robin sat down at it, placing his backpack on the seat next to him and drawing up his suitcase so it stood alongside. Like upstairs, there was something incredibly homely about the place, and the tables of people creating a slow drum of conversation matched with the crackling of the fire made Robin feel suddenly very tired.

Robin realized that he hadn’t really traveled anywhere farther north than Milton Keynes in years. Seeing Sam come and go at least twice a month made him feel that she did enough traveling for the both of them. And after she went missing, well, he barely had enough motivation to go to the corner shop, let alone a new city or town.

He closed his eyes, feeling oddly content. Like he could sleep. He snapped his eyes open and took a drink to try to counteract his drowsiness. He looked at the menu, catching the eye of the barmaid when she came down to collect empties. He ordered fish and chips and then tried to find something to keep himself awake.

He decided against getting the folder, full of the printouts he had collected on the Standedge Incident, out of his backpack. He didn’t want anyone to spy what he was looking at. So instead he looked around the walls of the basement.