It’s gone four by the time Lorna arrives in Broadstairs. Her train back to St Pancras is at 6.30 p.m. It doesn’t give her much time to try to find the right Alan Hartall. And as she stands there, in front of the station with the faint whiff of chips and sea air, she falters. Is this completely mad? This wild-goose chase for an Alan Hartall who could long be dead or moved away?

The first address is in Pierremont Avenue, a five-minute walk from the station, according to Google Maps, which she has up on her phone. She follows the little blue dot, her heels clipping the pavements, past unremarkable houses until she arrives there. It looks like a long road with houses in varying degrees of attractiveness and eras. She could be anywhere, she thinks, but apart from the cries of seagulls she doesn’t feel as if she’s in a seaside town. The blue dot flashes in front of a 1970s-style house with a skip at the front. She hesitates, righting her jacket and pushing her shoulders back. She feels anticipation sizzle through her. Buoyed by hope, she marches to the front door and knocks loudly. It takes a while before someone answers: a woman around her age in leggings and a baggy T-shirt who looks harassed. A little girl is clinging to her leg.

‘Sorry to bother you,’ Lorna begins.

‘If you’re selling something, I’m not interested,’ says the woman, without smiling.

‘No, I’m trying to find someone,’ Lorna says quickly, before the woman can shut the door on her. ‘An Alan Hartall.’

She shakes her head. ‘Sorry. No Alan Hartalls live here. We’ve only just moved in.’

‘Do you know anyone called Alan Hartall?’

The woman looks irritated now. ‘No.’ The little girl starts to cry. ‘If you’ll excuse me . . .’ She doesn’t finish her sentence before the door is closed in Lorna’s face.

Lorna lets out a long sigh. This is a waste of time. Why did she ever think the Alan Hartall who was friends with Sheila Watts would still be living here?

Hoisting her bag further up her shoulder she wanders out of the gate and stands by the wall, tapping in the other address she has. It looks like it’s by the sea. At least if she has no luck there she can wander down to the beach, maybe grab a coffee and bask in the late-afternoon sunshine. Thank goodness the two places are close to each other.