‘He’s not dead!’ Mac said, so loudly it was almost a shout. ‘We can’t think like that. If he was dead they’d have … they’d have found a body. We have to keep positive.’ He took a deep breath, then said more calmly, ‘The police will find him, I promise, Clara. You said yourself, they’re putting more people on it. It’s going to be OK.’

She nodded, fresh waves of panic washing over her at Mac’s clear distress.

As he made them both a cup of tea she looked around at the familiar disorder of his flat, somewhere the three of them had spent so many hours together, surrounded by the hundreds of photographs that covered every inch of the walls: the bands and musicians he’d shot over the years; the concerts and gigs and festivals he’d documented. A gang of Mac’s large circle of friends would often end up here after a night out, it being the biggest space and central to where everyone lived. Sometimes Mac’s girlfriend would come along, if he was seeing anyone, but usually, after everyone else had gone home, it would end up just the three of them, talking long into the night, drinking and listening to records.

The flat was situated over two floors, Mac’s photographic studio, dark room and bedroom above the kitchen and large living room that housed his vast collection of books and records. The best bit was the building’s flat roof where they could squeeze out and sit on summer evenings, looking out over their patch of North London, Highbury Fields behind them, the Holloway Road below.

Now, as she sipped her tea, she spotted a picture on the wall she’d not seen before and getting up, went to look at it. It was one Mac must have put up very recently, unusual in that it showed the three of them together. ‘Who took this?’ she asked.

‘What? Oh …’ he came and stood next to her. ‘My friend Pete, at my birthday last year. Do you remember? I found it the other day.’

She nodded. It was a brilliant shot. A close-up black-and-white in which she and Mac were turned to each other, their heads thrown back in laughter, while Luke grinned straight ahead at the camera. ‘What were we laughing at?’ she murmured.

‘Christ knows. Probably taking the piss out of Luke about something.’

She smiled and he put an arm around her. ‘Listen. Why don’t you move in here for a bit? I can’t stand thinking of you in that flat by yourself. Go and get some things and come and stay for a while. If we’re going to lose our minds with worry, we might as well do it together.’