An hour and a half later, the weather had got worse. A combination of heavy rain and sleet pelted down on the car as they drove through the centre of Doncaster, South Yorkshire.

It had been a while since Franny had been here, watching the races at the famous St Leger. But they had been happier times. With her father, with her uncle. Times where life seemed to be so much easier than it was now.

With a heavy heart, she watched as they drove along West Laith Gate, turning left into the busy Trafford Way. She supposed she should be pleased that Alfie was so on-board now, albeit she had to be careful, but she had a sinking feeling that since he’d seen the boy in the warehouse, this determination to find Barry was less about Mia and more about him and the young child. And as such she wanted to scream at him, wanted to let him know how much not knowing where Mia was, was slowly killing her.

Every day, every hour, every minute that passed felt like a painful, torturous eternity, but no matter how much she wanted to tell him, no matter how much she wanted to free herself of the burden, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

Sighing, she pulled down the passenger mirror and looked at herself, but suddenly her gaze caught sight of something, someone behind her. She screamed. There in the mirror, sitting behind her, was Bree.

Panicking, Franny unclicked her seatbelt and spun around, kneeling up, her breathing laboured as tears came to her eyes.

‘Fuck’s sake, what’s wrong! What’s wrong? Jesus, Fran, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’ Alfie, having got a fright from Franny’s sudden outburst, reached across and touched her whilst keeping his eyes on the road.

‘I … I … I thought …’ She stopped and gawked at the empty back seat.

‘Thought, what?’

She answered in a whisper, ‘Nothing … nothing …’ She trailed off as she continued to stare at the empty back seat. It was stupid. What was she even thinking letting her mind play tricks? She was stronger than that? She could keep it together …

‘Franny, talk to me, baby.’

Tensely, Franny said, ‘Sorry, Alf, I just thought … I thought you’d hit a rabbit.’

‘A rabbit?’

Sliding back into the cream, leather seat, and doing her belt back up, Franny shrugged. ‘A rabbit, a small dog, I dunno, it sounded like you hit something.’

Not saying anything, Alfie frowned as Franny huddled up, rubbing the side of her head as they continued to drive along; passing the mosque, heading towards Carr House Road, which took them past a row of small shops and houses, and on to Leger Way where the racecourse loomed large.

Gathering herself, Franny spoke calmly as she clenched her hands together. ‘How long now, Alf?’