He staggered backwards, and she immediately thought she should have broken it to him in another way. But what other way was there?

‘I’m so sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I didn’t realize.’

They were standing outside the cafe area, which was quiet as it was still a way off lunchtime.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ asked Kate.

They sat at a table and didn’t speak for a bit. Adam spent a lot of time stirring his drink, adding a large amount of sugar, Kate noticed. He took a sip and then stopped looking down at his drink and met her eyes.

‘When did she die?’

‘Twenty-fourth of February.’

His eyes flashed with recognition, horror. ‘That was the day before . . .’ He pulled himself up, got a grip. ‘We’d arranged to meet,’ he explained. ‘On the Saturday. The next day.’ He paused, shamefaced. ‘I thought she’d stood me up. I was annoyed with her. She never answered her phone or Facebook. Just went offline.’ He blushed. ‘It had happened before,’ he explained.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t contact you to let you know,’ said Kate. ‘Your number wasn’t on her phone.’

‘That’s OK. I was so sure she was going to show. I even googled her name, found noth—’ he quickly checked himself, stopped talking.

‘How did you recognize me?’ asked Kate.

‘She – Becky – sent me a photo. You were in it.’

Kate cocked her head quizzically, but he was already clicking on his phone. He turned the screen to face her. Her hand flew to her mouth. There she was with Becky, the day they made the snowman.

‘I remember that day,’ she said. ‘She had a massive hangover. Just spent the evening with you, I think?’

He blushed bright red and she realized they’d slept together. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but it felt strange to learn he’d been intimate with her daughter. She sharpened her interest in him, wondered what their relationship had been like – whether he’d treated Becky well.

‘We went out to dinner,’ he said. ‘I took her to a Lebanese restaurant near my place in Clapham.’

‘Can I have a copy of the photo?’ Kate asked.

‘Of course. What’s your number?’ He sent it over and when the beep arrived on her phone, Kate touched her bag lightly.

It seemed strange that there had been no record of Becky’s original message on her phone, nor Adam’s reply. Nothing to or from Adam at all. Which was odd – why would Becky have gone to the trouble of deleting them all? She’d been uncomfortable about dating Adam but that had been because she’d considered him a source, hadn’t wanted to cross the moral line.

Her eyes caught the green-and-yellow in the distance. She looked over Adam’s shoulder at the Senerix stand. So, he worked there. And Becky had considered him a source for her story. The story she, Kate, was now following. Had Becky deleted his details to erase any trail between them?