She turned to find a woman of seventy or so approaching, overdressed for the weather and carrying a bulging supermarket bag, panting as she came. She had grey, curly hair, a round face and a rather lovely smile. ‘Can I help you, dear?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps,’ Wada replied. ‘I am looking for Martin Caldwell.’

‘I don’t think he’s back.’

‘Back … from where?’

‘I really don’t know, dear.’ The lady squinted at Wada. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, are you Japanese?’

‘Yes. I am.’

‘That’s odd.’

‘It isn’t odd to me. I’ve always been Japanese.’ Wada smiled to make it clear she was trying to be humorous.

The lady chuckled. ‘Of course you have. I’m sorry. What I meant was … Martin said he was going to London to meet a Japanese woman, so it’s odd a Japanese woman turns up here to see him.’

‘I am the Japanese woman he was going to meet. My name is Mimori Takenaga.’ Wada wondered if Caldwell might have mentioned the name. The lady’s reaction suggested not. ‘He didn’t turn up for our appointment. And I have heard nothing from him.’

‘Oh. Really? That’s … unlike him.’

‘I travelled here this morning because I couldn’t think of any other way to find out why he didn’t meet me as planned.’

‘I can’t explain that, dear. But, since you’ve come all this way, why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?’

As she opened the front door, the lady introduced herself to Wada as Joan Stapleton. She led the way into a wide hall, with the doors to flats 1 and 2 on either side. The stairs ahead of them were panelled off. They had to go through another door to reach them. Then Mrs Stapleton began a breathy climb to the next floor.

There were the doors to three flats off the landing they reached, one to the rear of the house, two at the front. Mrs Stapleton lived in flat 4. ‘It doesn’t look as if my husband’s back yet,’ she said, opening the door. ‘Come along in.’

‘Which flat does Mr Caldwell live in?’ Wada asked.

‘Six. On the top floor. He’s all on his own up there.’

They entered flat 4. The rooms were well proportioned and high-ceilinged. China rabbits of all sizes eyed Wada from shelves, cabinets and tabletops as she followed Joan through to the cluttered kitchen, which looked out on to a fire escape and part of the rear garden.

‘You’ll have some tea, dear?’ asked Joan, filling the kettle and opening the caddy that stood beside it.

‘Thank you.’ The two tea bags that were tossed into the teapot made Wada’s heart sink.