Eva and James had planned a new venue for their early-morning meeting, an impersonal coffee chain near Waterloo. But as she sat opposite Piotr in the cafe, resisting the urge to comment on the latte that was larger than his entire face, she began to worry. James was late. Ten minutes so far, but she’d expected him to be there first, after the horror in his eyes the day before. He needed to tell her everything, she’d seen it, the release that comes from finally accepting that a secret cannot be held any longer.

Maybe he’d gone back to work first thing for the evidence and got held up. Or maybe he was in the lab, trying to find a solution. Could they have got to him? She checked her watch again.

‘Don’t worry,’ Piotr said. ‘I’m sure he’s on his way.’

‘You’ve never even met him.’

He nodded, looked away, scooped some of the foam out of his cup. Suddenly, irrationally, she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Her own black Americano was still too hot to drink, so she decided to wait till it was cool enough, drink it, then suggest they leave.

‘Do you have his number?’ Piotr asked.

‘In my mum’s address book.’

‘Do you have it with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you could phone him?’

Eva’s phone was on the table between them, she’d been picking it up and putting it down again since they’d arrived. She could phone him. But somehow she knew that wasn’t going to make any difference. If he wasn’t here, he wasn’t going to be answering his phone. And if he’d decided not to talk to her, there was no way they would get admittance to FullLife either. Not now.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ Piotr said suddenly, and she realised she hadn’t answered his suggestion, and had been ignoring him since they left the house. She didn’t want him to leave, though. It was … reassuring, having him here. She just didn’t particularly want him to talk while she was thinking.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No, it’s not that.’

He sat back and regarded her, as if trying to anticipate her next move, and she saw a flicker of the old journalist back in his eyes. It made her smile.

‘I’m trying to have an idea,’ she said. ‘And you’re distracting me.’

Now it was his turn to smile, and he didn’t try to hide it – he beamed at her from across the table.

‘Shall we go to FullLife?’

‘They won’t let us in. Especially now.’

‘Then if you won’t phone him …’