‘Is something else upsetting you, then? Maybe I can help.’

‘I’m missing Mum. You can’t bring her back, can you? I know she wasn’t fair to you, but she and I got on really well, so this has left a big black hole in my life.’

He could only hold her. There was no way he could fill that hole. No way she’d let him start to do so yet.

Perhaps one day, if he was very patient, they’d grow close in their own, different way. He had to cling to that hope.

With the help of various records, Adam and Gemma began to follow a trail long gone cold.

After a few days’ search they found a house where Lionel and Dorothy Dobson had lived with their daughter for a good many years and went to see it. The whole place seemed to be sagging and long neglected. They knocked, but only on principle, because clearly it was unoccupied.

An old lady next door looked over the fence as they started back to the car.

‘There’s no one living there now, hasn’t been for a year or so.’

Adam stopped. ‘Have you any idea where they went?’

‘I know where he is, but she’s gone to ground.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In prison and serve him right too, the brute.’

‘In prison! What for?’

‘I don’t know exactly. All sorts of things. Beating his poor wife up, for one.’

‘Would that be Dorothy?’

‘Yes. Do you know her?’

‘I used to when we were both teenagers.’

She didn’t answer because she’d stopped looking at him and was staring at Gemma. ‘I thought at first you were Janey. But you’re not, are you? You must be related, though. A cousin, maybe?’

Gemma shot a startled glance in her father’s direction.

He stepped into the breach. ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you know where Janey is?’

‘If I did know, I’d not tell a stranger, not after what she’s been through.’

Now she was studying him more carefully. ‘Are you a relative too? You have a look of Janey as well.’

‘I don’t know. I may be.’ What she said next surprised him.

‘Do you have identification, something that proves who you are?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘I may be able to get a message to Dorothy. But I won’t even try unless I’m sure who you are, and I’ll report you to the police if I think you’re a bad ’un. She and Janey have been through enough.’

He fished out his passport and held it out to her.

‘Can you wait till I fetch something to write on? The social worker said I need to take down the number of any identification someone produces.’

‘I can write the number and details in my notebook, then you can check them before you take the piece of paper.’

She thought about it for a moment or two, studied Gemma again, then nodded. ‘All right. You do that. And put how to contact you. Where do you live?’