‘Maybe she’s just forgotten?’ said Delia as they heaved on the door, the cold outside air blasting over them.

‘When was the last time Thea forgot something?’

Delia smiled.

Thea made lists, then she crossed things off when she’d done them and, if the list got too messy, she rewrote it. She kept a calendar and remembered birthdays, put the bins out on time and then reminded Vivian when it was time to put hers out as well.

‘Well, maybe Tristan’s contact forgot then – you don’t know.’ Delia stuffed her hands under her armpits.

‘That’s the thing, Dels. You’ve hit it on the head,’ Vivian said. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this company, about the trial, about any of it. I don’t like not knowing.’

On the promenade across from them, the man was still facing the café. Maybe he had a café fetish? That was it. He had a café fetish, definitely – it certainly wasn’t that he was an Ing Enterprises spy sent to watch them. No. Café fetish was much more realistic.

Vivian didn’t look away this time. She wasn’t able to see if the man was staring right at her from this distance, but she was certain, somewhere in her gut, that he was.

If he carried on like that, standing there and gazing in, leaning against the railings in that irritatingly relaxed way, then she was going to put her umbrella up, march out of the café porch and stomp right up to him …

‘Viv?’ Delia followed her gaze.

Vivian slumped. ‘I’m going to have to go to the police, aren’t I?’

In the dark. That was the phrase, wasn’t it? She was in the dark and she hated it and, worse, her little girl was in there somewhere too.

But that was the thing about the dark.

All you had to do was strike a match, or flick a switch, and the shapes you’d thought were monsters turned out to be just boxes and bags and old junk piled high.

It was time to strike a match.

Chapter 25

The dragging stopped and, when Thea opened her eyes, she was looking at a face, a concerned face, which was nice, but, nicer still, it was a face she knew.

Ethan.

He put a finger to his lips and moved his hand away from her mouth. She gulped in air, still lying on her back where he’d dragged her out, one trainer loose and her jacket rucked up under her shoulder blades.

He nudged her to get up and pointed off to the right, still gesturing for quiet.