Realising the clamour probably wasn’t enough, he scrambled back down the steps and found one of the empty paint tins. Despite his weakness, despite the pain in his limbs and near starvation, he raised the tin over his head and started to hit the trapdoor with it. Bang, bang, bang. He gave his arms a rest and listened. The noise overhead had stopped.

Charlie panicked and began to bang again, roaring at the top of his lungs. He was so lost in what he was doing that when the trapdoor was flung open, he barely noticed. Suddenly he was blinded by light. He dropped the tin and looked up, shielding his eyes from the stinging beam.

A woman was standing there, staring down at him – a skinny little boy, covered in his own filth, eyes wide with fear. She was wearing a plain grey jacket and skirt, the clothes of a professional woman. Her eyes were wide with shock; her nose wrinkled at the smell that had spilled out the door.

To Charlie, she was beautiful. The prettiest princess he had ever seen. Like the ones from the story his mother used to read.

Maybe this wasn’t real at all. Maybe he was no longer alive and this was heaven. She was an angel.

‘Charlie?’ she said, her voice filled with horror. ‘Are you Charlie?’

He nodded mutely. His eyes were dry, but inside, he was crying.

‘Oh, my sweet Lord,’ she said. ‘Oh, you poor little boy. You’re okay. You’re alright now. He’s gone. Your granddad is gone.’

CHAPTER 35

‘Open up!’ Ray yelled, and banged again on the door of Fergus Holland’s house. The building was on the main street of the village, its door just off the pavement. No garden, no privacy. People came out of their homes on either side to see what was going on. They were in for a treat. Ray was going to break the door down with his fists if it wasn’t answered soon.

‘There’s the boss,’ Bridget said, pointing at the car pulling up beside them.

‘Follow us,’ the inspector called, leaning across Willie. ‘It’s not Fergus. It’s Charlie Lane.’

‘Who?’ Ray was too angry to think straight. ‘Who the hell is Charlie … wait, is he the one who drove us up to Carney’s that day?’

‘Yes!’

Ray’s jaw dropped. He and Bridget ran back to their car and jumped in.

‘Do you know where he lives?’ Bridget asked.

‘I haven’t the foggiest. I barely remember what the man looks like.’

‘Well, don’t bloody lose them, then. They’re nearly out of the village already.’

But Willie had slowed down and Ray managed to catch up.

They drove at speed. Willie turned off the main road and a few minutes later they were on a narrower route that Ray recognised as the one they’d taken to Carney’s house.