The bar was only half full and a quick check proved that Dudley wasn’t there. Lizzie followed the insistent thud of the beat towards the dance floor but couldn’t see him there either.

“The guy behind the bar says Dudley hasn’t been in tonight,” Arthur said, joining her, his gaze fixed on the swaying dancers. His shoulder brushed Lizzie’s. She felt acutely aware of him and wasn’t sure whether it was the intimate darkness or the pulse of the music that was influencing her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as they made their way back through the bar. “It was a long shot.”

“Dudley told you he’d be here, though,” Arthur said, and it wasn’t a question. “You expected to find him.”

Lizzie stopped. They looked at one another. “OK,” she said after a moment, “evidently I’m not the only one who can read minds.”

She thought Arthur almost smiled. “It was an educated guess,” he said, “no more. I don’t share your gift.”

“All right,” Lizzie said, sighing. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d make another of your judgemental comments, that’s all. Dudley was round at my flat earlier and he mentioned he was coming on here. I guess he changed his mind. I didn’t come here to party with him,” she added, hating that she was explaining herself. “I just thought... I thought he wasn’t doing himself any favours by being so crassly insensitive at a time like this and I wanted to try and persuade him to go home.”

“That’s hardly your responsibility,” Arthur said, holding the door open for her as they exited the bar and started back up the stairs.

“No,” Lizzie admitted.

“I’m looking out for Johnny because he’s my brother, he’s seventeen and I’ve looked out for him all my life,” Arthur said. “Whereas you and Dudley—”

“There is no me and Dudley,” Lizzie snapped. “I was trying to be a friend, that’s all.”

Arthur was silent.

“Look,” Lizzie said, as they reached the top of the steps and were standing once again under the huge central chandelier in the hall. She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out of her pocket. “I know this is important so I’ll give Dudley a call—”

Arthur’s hand closed over hers on the phone. “Why?” he said. “Why would you care?”

“God, you make things difficult,” Lizzie said. She stared up defiantly into his eyes. “I care about Johnny because it’s clear he’s desperately unhappy,” she said, “and I understand how horrible it feels to lose someone close to you, especially when you’re so young and you’ve already gone through so much—” She stopped dead, aware that she was revealing far too much about herself to someone who was practically a stranger, and an unsympathetic one at that.

Arthur let go of her hand. Still holding his gaze very deliberately, Lizzie flipped open the phone and dialled Dudley’s number. There was no reply.

“He’s probably blocking me,” she said, after she’d let it ring twenty times. “Dudley and I aren’t exactly on good terms at the moment.” She shrugged, sliding the phone back into her pocket. Dudley’s tantrums were only an irritant compared to what Johnny might do in the extremity of his misery. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” she added. “I don’t really know what else to suggest.”