He remembers, too, Ann-Marie’s dark, short hair and the way she was holding the bag of bottles. Alcohol. He scrapes his hand along one side of his arm and grabs the empty cereal bowl, clattering the spoon against the cold edge. He pushes himself up and looks out of the patio doors, past the dark fields. There are lines of people walking shoulder to shoulder, combing the undergrowth. Some are wearing white hooded suits. Three police vans and a Jeep are parked along the edge of one field. He has looked at this land every day for the best part of a decade. Now people are looking. Closer than he ever has.

He puts his work bag together and goes out to the pickup. There are more cars in the road at the front of the house and Niall realizes he is almost hemmed in as he tries to back out. A balding man gets out of a blue car and scowls. Niall tries to place him.

He edges close to a four-wheel drive by the gate. A woman in the passenger seat beckons to him as she winds down her window. ‘Are you coming to help us with the search?’ Her make-up is too bright.

‘Well,’ he begins, ‘I’m away to work the now, but I’ll, yes, I’m coming back, for sure.’

‘Uh-huh. You’re Niall Mackay?’ she continues as he reverses carefully. He recognizes her from around the town, but doesn’t know her name.

‘Aye?’

‘Thought if anyone knew about where to look, it would be you.’ Her expression is judgemental.

‘Heh?’

‘On you go,’ she says, waving him on sternly.

As he drives to the town his fists are clamped to the steering wheel. People need new bathrooms and he has to put food on the table. He has to carry on for Lauren, even when it kills him inside. He stops in Catriona’s drive, his head in his hands. When he closes his eyes, he sees Ann-Marie looking up at him, startled, clutching the door handle, trying to escape.

Catriona answers the door in a boxy jumper that touches the thighs of her neat trousers. He wants to hug her, just for the comfort of another human being. She seems distracted and does not ask whether he wants a cup of tea.

He tries to act like someone who hasn’t just found out their wife is dead. ‘So how was Sandy then, the other night?’

‘Oh, fine.’ She looks flushed with happiness. ‘We had dinner, then, you know, he went on his way.’

Sure he did, thinks Niall, but nods with what he hopes is a plausible smile. I’m not here to judge. His wife Christine is all around him now, and while his body goes through the motions part of his mind is separate, with her.