‘So, has Barry paid you a visit recently?’

Taking a deep breath, Sally nodded. ‘Yeah, he was here yesterday. He came to collect a little boy I was looking after for him, though the kid was only here a couple of nights.’

Franny, almost unable to look at Sally, asked, ‘So where’s the boy now? What’s going to happen to him?’

‘Look, I shouldn’t be saying any more.’

Without hesitation, Franny raised her voice. ‘Just tell me!’

‘If people find out they can’t trust me, I’ll be in trouble.’

Franny pushed up against Sally, her eyes blazing. ‘Listen to me, Sally, these people will be the least of your worries if you don’t continue talking, so you might as well tell me.’

Gazing up into Franny’s face, Sally simply said, ‘There’s going to be an auction. Barry’s going to auction off the boy.’

38

Alfie, having recovered slightly, sat staring at Sally. He spoke to her as Franny fed the toddler – who’d woken up hungry – a bottle of milk.

‘Have you a photo of this boy?’

‘No.’

Alfie – his patience non-existent – kicked the legs of Sally’s chair. ‘I said, have you a fucking photo of this little boy?’

Nervously, Sally nodded. ‘Yes … yes, it’s on my phone. We don’t usually take photos. It’s too risky but …’

‘But what?’

‘Barry wanted me to because it was a way of drumming up business. He thought that as I know the right people, maybe I could ask about, see if anyone’s interested. You know, show them the photo because obviously the more people go to the auction, the better for him. The more money it will generate.’

Alfie spoke, but it was more of a statement than a question. ‘And you’ll get a cut of that. A bonus.’

Sally nodded as Alfie continued to talk. He spoke thoughtfully. ‘Let me see the photo.’

With only a slight hesitation, Sally said, ‘My phone’s over there. The code is 7, 6, 9, 7, 4, 1.’

Alfie stood up and strode across to pick up Sally’s phone. Still wearing gloves, he punched in the numbers. He scrolled through Sally’s photo album, shaking his head at the inoffensive pictures on it. Seaside snaps, holiday snaps, fun days out that only emphasised to Alfie the horrific reality of the whole situation.

Suddenly he stopped. His whole body froze as he stared at a photo of a little boy sitting on a couch. The same little boy he’d seen in the warehouse, with his same haunted eyes – the same look of fear in them. He whispered to no one particular. ‘That’s him … that’s the boy. I think we’ve found him.’ He quickly showed the photo to Franny before turning his attention back to Sally. ‘This is the boy Barry brought to you, isn’t it?’