Lucy walked quickly towards her. By the look of it, the next door, which was glazed and closed, was the unit’s actual entry point. Presumably it was locked at this time of night, and if you wanted access you had to use the bell-push on its left to attract the night nurse behind the desk at the other side. That night nurse, a young black woman with braided hair, who was writing some kind of report, glanced up as Lucy entered the waiting area, but when Lucy sat down, her eyes flickered back to her work.

‘Apparently, they dumped him outside,’ Cora said, her voice weak, strained. ‘Just like that. Like he was a sack of rubbish or something.’

‘Who did?’ Lucy asked tensely, not knowing which door to keep an eye on most, the locked inner glass door or the open outer door.

‘Whoever they were. I’ve not asked anyone, obviously … but I heard two policemen talking. It was someone driving a van.’

‘Mum … you have to come away from here right now.’

Cora looked slowly round at her. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Look!’ Lucy whispered. ‘You know the situation. You can’t hang around. There are police everywhere. If someone sees you—’

‘For Heaven’s sake!’ Cora made no effort to lower her voice. ‘I’ve told you before: no one knows I’m your mother.’

‘You’d be surprised. I know most of our lot give the impression they know nothing at all but trust me, that isn’t the case.’

‘I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. Not till I find out how bad he is.’

Lucy leaned towards her, one hand tight on her mother’s wrist, eyes constantly straying to the entry door. ‘Mum, why on earth do you care? You didn’t see the guy for thirty years. You’ve only seen him recently because his criminal activities have brought him into contact with us.’

Cora still made no effort to lower her voice. ‘Are you telling me you don’t care, Lucy?’

‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Really? Because that’s not what your body language is telling me. You’re coiled like a spring.’

‘Yes, because if someone sees us … oh, God!’ Lucy lowered her head and covered her face with a hand, because a short, squarish figure with familiar white hair and a scruffy tweed jacket had appeared on the other side of the glass door, talking to a doctor wearing scrubs. ‘That’s DI Beardmore. I’m telling you, Mum, if he sees us—’

‘Would you get your hand off me!’ Cora raised her voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Lucy released her; she had no choice. At the same time, she risked another glance at the glass door, but Beardmore had moved out of sight again.