‘Victor Carmichael. I think he must have known your gran.’ He has a slight Yorkshire accent.

Victor. I’m too shocked to answer right away.

‘My grandmother talked about a Victor. We didn’t understand who she meant as she couldn’t remember his surname. She has dementia now,’ I add, when he looks at me with a bemused expression. I survey them both. ‘Do you want to come in?’ I find myself asking.

They nod gratefully and step into the hallway. I guide them to the living room.

‘What are you doing?’ Mum mouths.

‘They seem fine,’ I whisper back. ‘We need answers.’

Theo and Jen take a seat on the sofa and Theo drops his backpack to his feet.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Mum asks, as I sit in the armchair by the window.

‘We’re okay, thanks,’ says Jen. ‘We’re staying at the pub down the road and had a late lunch.’

‘We’ve come all the way from Yorkshire,’ says Theo, as Mum perches on a chair by the fireplace. ‘Look, I’ll cut to the chase, but I think my dad is hiding something. He’s been acting really weird. Well,’ he gives a short laugh, ‘weirder than usual. He wouldn’t tell me why he’d written Find Her on the article, or give me any information when I asked. He was very defensive and prickly. And then I found a folder hidden in this secret space of his in a cupboard. It was filled with photographs of women. I was wondering if one of these is your gran.’ He offers me the phone and I get up to take it from him. Still standing up I flick through them. They are all of pretty young women. One is heavily pregnant. By the fashions and haircuts it looks as though they span a twenty-year period. ‘No,’ I say, handing him back the phone. ‘None of these is Gran.’ I sit back down.

‘Oh.’ He looks disappointed. ‘You said your gran mentioned a Victor? What did she say about him?’

I throw Mum an awkward look. ‘Um . . .’ I say, turning to Theo. ‘She said something about how he wanted to hurt the baby.’

Theo looks shocked. ‘Hurt the baby? My dad is a doctor. He might be many things,’ his expression darkens, ‘but . . . hurting babies?’ Jen reaches for his hand.

We plunge into an uncomfortable silence until Mum pipes up, ‘How old is your dad? My mother – Rose – is in her seventies.’

‘My dad was old when he had me. My mum was much younger. Dad is seventy-six.’

‘So they’re the same age. Could they have been together at some point?’

Theo shrugs. ‘I really don’t know. Did Rose say anything else about my dad?’

‘She gets really confused,’ I say, as explanation. ‘She mentions lots of names. She mentioned Victor a few times but when she did she seemed, well, scared . . .’

Theo pales. ‘Scared?’