Exhausted, Charlie shook his head. ‘No, none of us are in contact with him. If Alfie has told you anything about him, you’d know why. I can’t help you.’

Walking towards the door, Franny stopped. She gazed at Charlie for a moment. ‘And, Charlie, not a word, you understand? Not a word about Bree.’

Having waited five minutes after Franny had left, Charlie reached for his phone, dialling a number as his hands shook. It was answered quickly. ‘Hello?’

‘Dad, it’s me, Charlie. There’s someone asking around about you.’

30

It had been over half an hour since Franny had walked into Queen’s Hospital in Romford to see Charlie and as Alfie sat waiting, watching the people come and go, he suddenly froze. A wave of nausea washed over him. A wave of fear … Right in front of him, not even two hundred metres away, scurrying away from the main entrance, talking on his phone was Barry Eton.

Unable to keep the bile from rushing into his mouth, Alfie opened the car door and promptly was sick. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, closing his eyes for a moment to get his breath, then cautiously – though he doubted after all this time Barry would recognise him – he peeked around the back of the car, watching Barry stalk across the car park to where a grey Mini was waiting for him.

Physically repelled he watched the car move out of the hospital car park but as it got to the gate, Alfie – suddenly thinking about Mia and Franny – sped into action, pushing his fears to one side. He ran around to the driver’s seat and began to follow. He put his foot on the accelerator and followed the grey Mini, swerving between cars, desperate not to lose sight of it.

At Aveley bypass he turned right, following the car down a long main road, heading towards Tilbury Docks. He continued to follow, pulling back occasionally to avoid being seen.

At the edge of a large industrial site, Alfie pulled up, watching the grey Mini stop alongside an abandoned warehouse. The lights of the Mini were turned off but he couldn’t see who got out of the car or even how many people there were.

It was dark, and the rain began to turn into hail, banging down on the top of the roof. Still with his stare fixed on the car, Alfie pulled his phone out from his pocket. He pressed dial, listening to the voicemail click in, then speaking in a whisper, Alfie said, ‘Fran, it’s me, look, I had to take the car. I’m at a warehouse in East Tilbury. It’s the disused shipping site – you know the old motor factory on the front. I’ll explain all when I see you, but if you can get yourself here, I’d appreciate the back-up … but be careful … Listen, I have to go.’