‘I’ve had a few people asking for information on Gran. A man approached me saying he was a private detective and I just wanted to make sure he didn’t bother you or Gran, or come to the care home to visit her.’

‘Oh, right . . . How strange. But don’t worry,’ she says, her clipped, curt voice reassuringly officious. ‘We don’t let just anyone come in to visit.’

‘Thanks. And would it be okay . . . if someone does turn up asking to see her, to contact me first?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you. Also, how is Gran? I’m coming to visit her tomorrow anyway but . . .’

‘She’s fine. A bit confused today. She kept calling me Melissa.’

‘Melissa?’

She laughs. ‘I must remind her of someone she once knew, that’s all. A lot of the residents do it. See you tomorrow.’

As I end the call there is a bang at the front door and I nearly drop my phone in fright. Then I hear the key in the lock, Tom’s voice greeting Snowy, and I feel weak with relief.

This is ridiculous. I’m a jittery mess. Being in the house alone all day has made me feel nervy.

Tom still has his helmet on, which he looks faintly ridiculous in, and his expression changes to shock when I hurtle into his arms.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

I lead him into the living room. He perches on the sofa to take off his helmet. His hair is plastered to his head. He watches me without speaking while I pace the room, the words falling fast from my mouth. When I’ve finished he stares at me, his eyes flashing furiously. ‘Who the fuck does this Davies bloke think he is? I could kill him.’

‘Tom . . .’

‘How dare he frighten you like that?’