On the corner of the street, the pub lights beckoned. A window seat and a large gin were sorely tempting, but I had a task to complete. Dad would have to wait; I’d have a quick coffee and plough on.

Maya, 9 p.m.

Maya, 9 p.m.

We’d been searching for Ali in the dark for the last two hours. Under-the-radar doss spots, recreation grounds, car parks, we’d tried them all. Still there was no sign of him in the Brick Lane area. This was the sixth youth centre we’d been to.

Dougie pulled the door open. ‘You’d better take me somewhere swanky.’ He’d been teasing me all evening. ‘Dragging me out like this.’

‘Wherever you like, as long as you stop moaning and we find Ali.’ I marched ahead.

‘Ah, now that’s sneaky. Talk about moving the goalposts. You only mentioned me coming with you, not a successful outcome or having to wear a bloody stab-vest.’

We entered a lobby. In overall appearance, it looked the same as the last one, and the four before that. Washable flooring, scuffed walls, strip lighting and plastic-coated notices. A faint babble of chatting trickled along the corridor.

The manager already had photos of Kenny, John, and Ali. ‘Sorry, no,’ he said. ‘Ali hasn’t been here all week, and I haven’t seen the other two.’

Dougie and I retraced our steps, each time a little slower than the last.

‘We need a plan,’ I said when we got back outside. ‘The youth clubs will be closing soon. I’ve already emailed Ali’s photograph to all the local libraries, and asked the shopping centre managers to distribute them to their security guys. That leaves a few more stations, hundreds of bus stops and four more parks. We’ll be more effective if we split up.’

‘Only if I cover the parks. You’ll get yourself killed, traipsing round like this at night.’

Dougie knew I was capable, but I appreciated his concern and was too knackered to argue. ‘OK, you take the parks and I’ll do the rail and bus stations. We’ll have to leave bus stops for tonight. They’re less likely anyway as they’re open.’ I handed him the list we’d compiled earlier over supper. ‘Shall we meet for last orders at the Morgan Arms? I reckon I can shout you a pint to make that vest a bit tighter.’

‘Good idea. I’ll duck into Shoreditch nick and borrow some wheels. See you later. Be careful.’

‘You too.’ I got in the car, floored the accelerator and sped away.

It was so frustrating.

How could Ali have disappeared into thin air? As the days and hours rolled by, I began to wonder if we were ever going to see Ali alive again.

Feldman’s Newsagent’s, Brick Lane, 1989 – Maya

Feldman’s Newsagent’s, Brick Lane, 1989 – Maya