She dressed and went downstairs, where she found Gemma sitting at the Formica kitchen table in a pink towelling dressing gown and slippers, working at her laptop, a cup of tea by her right hand. Her face, bare of make-up, was shiny and rosy. The woman looked about sixteen.

‘Morning Meredith,’ she said. ‘Kettle’s just boiled. Sorry, I was about to get dressed.’

‘I can’t get hold of Pete,’ Meredith said, not bothering with the small talk. ‘He isn’t picking up, or ringing me back.’

She opened the fridge door out of habit and stood for a long time looking inside. There was a bit of yogurt left, a heel of bread, enough milk for tea … but in the end she merely closed the door again. ‘I’m really worried.’

Gemma stood up. ‘Let’s get over there, then. Give me five minutes to get dressed.’

As they got into Gemma’s Ford Focus, Meredith averted her eyes away from the space that had held Ralph’s car. She wondered how Paula was getting on at her sister’s. She should ring her … once she knew that Pete was safe, of course. There was little room in her head for anything else at the moment.

Gemma drove them slowly out onto the access road that ran behind the house and fed into the public car park and to the main exit. Hardly anyone was around this early, and they didn’t even pass another car on the short drive into Minstead Village.

Parking up at the top of the steps leading to the pontoon, Gemma was just pulling the handbrake up when a gentle rap on the passenger window made Meredith jump. It was Trevor, Pete’s neighbour. She wound down the window and managed a smile, which he didn’t reciprocate – in fact his expression was a mixture of puzzlement and worry.

‘Hi Meredith … hopefully you can solve the mystery.’

‘Hi Trevor. What mystery?’

‘Where your twin’s taken himself off to.’

The breath stopped in her throat, and she had to cough to get it started again. ‘What do you mean?’

Trevor moved to one side and made a gesture with his arm towards the river. ‘He’s moved the boat. Didn’t tell any of us he was going, though, and he must have gone in the middle of the night. Is everything OK?’ He scratched his head contemplatively. ‘I mean, obviously everything is not OK…’

They both stared at Andrea’s barge, still taped off and now, next to it, the empty mooring where Barton Bee had been.