‘Fred, the papers have an idea about the boys.’

‘What idea would that be?’

‘That they may be in a relationship.’

‘What the hell? What the fuck is goin’ on?’ He shot to his feet.

‘We found some gay porn in Jeremy’s room. It looks like one of the lads left the box unattended for a few minutes.’

‘Gay porn?’ Fred repeated, pacing the sitting-room floor.

‘Yeah.’

‘What do you mean it was unattended?’ Fred asked. He was still trying to get his head around the notion that the boys were gay. The photo in the newspaper, they were naked from the waist up, arms around one another. That’s gonna look bad now.

‘One of the search team put it in the boot. It was raining and he was trying to hurry. He thought there was no one around so he didn’t close it when he went in to grab the other box. It couldn’t have been unattended longer than a few minutes.’

‘So you’re telling me one of the neighbours spotted the porn and called the fuckin’ press?’

‘It looks like it.’

‘Christ almighty, Tom. Christ al-fuckin’-mighty.’

‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

‘What are the papers sayin’?’

‘Well, it’s just one so far, but you can be sure the others will pick up on it. They’re sayin’ the boys are missing since Sunday night and they’re not putting forward the notion that they’ve run off together but it’s insinuated. They’re asking them to come home. They’ve added details of a gay helpline.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Look, it’s not the end of the world. At least they’re on the front page now. If they’re out there we’ll find them.’

‘I’m not even gonna dignify the idea with—’

‘The thing is, it’s a strong theory.’

‘Ah, come on.’

‘The kid is gay, Fred.’

‘Because of some porn? He could have found that God knows where.’

‘Kids don’t keep gay porn unless they’re gay.’

‘Bollocks. He has a girlfriend.’

‘Fred, listen to me. If the lads have run off to be together it’s the best possible scenario with the best possible outcome. But we’ll follow any and all leads until we find them.’

‘You’re not going to make the papers retract?’

‘That would not be helpful at this juncture.’

‘Christ.’

‘You need to prepare Maisie.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that?’ Fred said angrily.

‘I’m sorry, Fred. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘You do that.’ Fred hung up. He could hear Maisie moving around, taking care of her mother and talking to Valerie. The kettle was on. Toast popped up. His stomach growled.