It was a ten-minute walk to the bus stop, then twenty minutes on the 158 to Bromley Road, where Jude got off and bought a bunch of yellow and red chrysanthemums from a roadside stall. From there, it was another ten-minute walk. Jude constantly looked at her phone to check the directions; she wished she had biked, which would have been much quicker, but it was drizzling steadily and she didn’t want to arrive cold and wet. Walking through the residential streets of Walthamstow, she was almost dazed. These rows of terraced houses were familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Although this part of northeast London was completely new to her, the streets felt like she knew them. They could have been anywhere from Richmond to Romford.

But when she arrived at the address Danny had given her, it wasn’t like everywhere else. In fact, it wasn’t like anywhere else. The house stood at the end of a close, slightly askew. It had clearly been there before the rest of the houses were built and it didn’t seem to quite fit. It was set apart from its neat neighbors, detached, double-fronted, three-storied. It was bigger and much more neglected. At first glance you might even think it was abandoned. A driveway led down one side of it, as in a builder’s yard or an industrial workshop. The house itself looked as if it had once been converted into a commercial premises and then partially converted back. It was clearly still a work in progress.

She wouldn’t have imagined Liam in the suburbs but this was more his style. He was never quite like other people.

She rang the bell. When the door opened, she was preparing herself to say something soothing and apologetic to Danny but it wasn’t Danny. Instead she was facing a tall bulky man, with stubble on his chin that was almost a beard, and sweeping brown hair. He was dressed in heavy-duty canvas trousers and a blue checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was dusty and his clothes were dusty. Even his beard was dusty.

“Does Danny live here?” said Jude. “I’ve come to see her.”

The man frowned. “Who are you?”

Jude didn’t quite know how much of an explanation she was expected to give, especially as she might have come to the wrong house. She just said her name. He gave a slow nod.

“Aha! Now I know who you are,” he said. “We’ve been talking about you. The mystery woman.”

“There’s not much of a mystery.”

He gave an odd smile. “Come in,” he said, and gestured her inside.