I sped away from Mum’s residential home, still reeling from the day’s events. It was hard to shake the feeling I’d had at the squat, when Ali ran off, that we would never see him alive again. In my head, as I drove home, scenes of Ali’s dead body, and the room where he’d been shot, were playing on a loop. I’d known the crime scene was not going to be pleasant, but this was as though the images were lasered onto the back of my eyes, and much as I tried to blink them away, they came back. I saw the fear in his eyes. Heard his voice, saying over and over, ‘He kill me. He fucking kill me. And all of us.’

Then, there was the stuff with Dad.

When I arrived home in Mile End, I hoped I could leave the day behind. As I opened the flat door, I got a waft of burning logs and chilli con carne. In the lounge, Dougie was half-asleep, iPad on his lap and the telly on.

I stuck my head round the door. ‘Hi. I’m going to . . . shower and balcony,’ was all I managed, and the only thing I caught that mattered was the kindness in his smile.

*

Twenty minutes later, I was out of the shower, my skin prickling in my pyjamas from the heat of the water. On the kitchen balcony, I sat on a plastic chair, cradling a bowl of chilli and staring at the inky shimmer of the night sky. The canal felt full of ghosts. Under the gaze of the full moon, Johnson’s Lock was bathed in light. The lurking strangers were mere bushes and undergrowth. The shadows, which were usually shrouded in darkness, tonight were tricks of the light.

TUESDAY

TUESDAY

Dan, 1 a.m.

Dan, 1 a.m.

It had been a long night. It was well after midnight, and Maya and Dan had made little progress. They’d been on the streets for two hours, searching for people who knew Patrick Ryan and the Hayes brothers. So far, several people remembered Ryan from various locations around London, but none knew Hayes – or would admit to it.

They were leaning against a wall, drinking watery tea that they’d bought from an all-night van.

‘I’ve booked my ticket to Sydney,’ Dan said. ‘Cleared it with HR. I’m off in a week.’

‘That’s great news,’ Maya said. ‘The girls will be so excited to see you. And you’ll catch the end of the summer.’

He chuckled. Maya hadn’t met the girls yet, or Aroona, but he had a feeling they’d get on well. ‘The smell from that van is making me hungry. I’m either going to get a bacon sarnie or suggest we call it quits for the night. What’s your shout?’ He stood up.