Fair enough, thought Vivian. She gazed out of the window. It was definitely not the morning for a seaside walk, but she noticed someone was out there on the promenade: a man, muffled in a scarf and woollen hat, who had stopped just outside and leant against the railings. Nothing peculiar in that, Vivian told herself. People often paused for a moment to take in the view. Except, well, they needed to be actually facing the view, didn’t they? He was staring the wrong way, not even looking at the sea. Staring at them.

Paranoia. Vivian mentally shook herself: she was not paranoid.

Not completely, anyway.

On the wall there was a clock the shape of a dinner plate with cutlery for hands. It ticked.

They ordered more coffee.

Tick, tick, tick.

Where was the tock? Vivian wondered, resolutely not looking out of the window. That was how it was meant to go: there was meant to be a tock. Tick, tock. Everyone knew that. The clock was clearly defective.

Who were they waiting for? Vivian had been disappointed with herself when she’d heard their contact was called Alex and immediately thought of them as a man, well, a boy really, some computer nerd in a bad jumper. She had resolved to give her first thoughts a good talking-to. Alex could be a woman. Anyone.

The man behind the counter slapped a wet cloth along the top of the chiller cabinet.

Tick, tick.

‘Come on, Viv, it’s been an hour. They’re not coming.’

Maybe the stupid, tockless clock was wrong. She looked at her watch and sighed. ‘You see, I know it’s only been a week and that’s no time, is it? I know I shouldn’t be worried and, if I am, I should go to the police, not sit in dingy little cafés failing to meet complete strangers.’

She tried to imagine explaining it to an overworked policewoman behind the reception desk: ‘You see, my daughter is on a technology trial and she said she’d phone every day but she hasn’t for over a week now and I’m worried about …’

About what? That’s where it all fell apart. What was she worried about? Thea had sounded relieved on the phone the last time she’d spoken to her. She’d got better sleep; it was all working. There was nothing to worry about.

‘But this is Thea,’ she continued. ‘The girl has always been clockwork. She said she would ring every day.’

And just like that, she was right back in those hormone-soaked days after Thea had been born when just looking at her sweet solemn little face caused a rush of every emotion she had ever experienced to swell so violently in her throat she thought she might have to scream just to breathe.

She got up and wrapped her scarf around her.