Irene felt tears stinging her eyes and looked down to hide them as she put the paper back in her handbag.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But he had lunch here. I found the receipt.’

‘Oh? When was that then?’ said Keith and Irene told him the date, which was etched onto her memory from endlessly studying the receipts.

Keith made a face. ‘Wish I could help you.’ Then, ‘Wait a minute.’

He looked past her into the café and suddenly shouted so loud that Irene flinched and almost dropped her handbag.

‘Oi! This nice lady is looking for her son. I’m going to come round and show you all and anyone that can help her gets a free coffee, okay?’

Irene smiled as Keith winked at her and held out his hand for the picture again.

He then made his way round the café showing each of the customers. One by one they looked at the photo, then at Irene, then shook their heads and returned to their lunch.

An old man sitting in the window, which dripped with condensation, was last. He had a yellowish-white beard and thin hair across a pink scalp. There were the remains of a sausage sandwich on the plate in front of him.

He studied the picture for a long time before turning to Irene and speaking.

‘I’m not certain, but I think it’s him,’ he said, in a surprisingly posh voice. ‘The one in the paper.’

‘The paper?’ Irene had stepped forward and had to stop herself from grasping the man’s sleeve. ‘What do you mean, in the paper?’ she said, her voice high-pitched.

He frowned and looked a little sheepish now, darting glances from the newspaper on the seat beside him to Keith before replying.

‘The man they found. By the cliffs.’

ELLIOTT

I took a beer from the fridge and drank it quickly while I rooted around for something easy to eat. I ignored the seabass fillets and the vegetables, the bunches of fresh herbs.

Tonight, I wanted fat and salt. In London I’d have called for a takeaway but here there were a limited number of places that delivered, and I had no intention of going outside again.

Carrying a fresh beer, I piled a plate with cheese, ham, thick slices of bread and butter with a whole family-sized bag of balsamic vinegar Kettle Chips. What I was really craving was Monster Munch, but there was little chance of finding those in our cupboards.

Then I slumped down on the sofa and found a football match on Sky Sports. I wasn’t really concentrating on the game though. My thoughts kept ping-ponging between Lee Bennett and Anya.

I pictured the scene over at their house. Patrick probably leaving the women to it, knowing that his daughter needed something he couldn’t provide tonight.

You and me both, mate, I thought bitterly.