It was quarter to seven before she admitted to herself she’d been stood up. The disappointment crushed her. She realized at that moment the biting anxiety she’d felt since Luke disappeared had been temporarily lifted by the prospect of finally meeting Emily, and it was only now as she slowly and despondently began to gather her coat and bag, that she realized how desperately she’d wanted it to be true. The despair she’d been feeling since the day Luke had gone missing returned now with renewed strength: everything seemed entirely hopeless once more.

The sound of smashing glass turned her attention to the bar, where she saw the guy who’d served her earlier looking down at a dropped tray. He grinned ruefully at her when their eyes met, and she smiled her sympathy back. When she turned again to her table, it was to find a woman standing in front of her and she jumped in surprise.

‘Clara?’ the woman said, and with a quick, tentative smile, added, ‘It is you, isn’t it?’

The stranger was so unmistakably Luke’s sister that at first Clara could only stare at her in stunned silence. She was slim and slightly younger looking than her thirty-seven years, strikingly attractive and dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans. Her hair, thick and dark like her brother’s, framed a finely featured face that had large brown eyes the replica of Luke’s. Even their mouths, with their wide, full lips, were identical. ‘Oh,’ said Clara, jumping to her feet. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s you, isn’t it, it’s really you!’ She wanted to hug Emily but she seemed so nervous, as though she might bolt at any moment, that she just stood with her arms by her side, drinking her in.

When they’d sat down Clara gave a shaky laugh. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

Emily’s voice was low and soft, with the same gentle middle-class Suffolk accent as her brother’s. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she said, before adding anxiously, ‘You didn’t tell my parents you were meeting me?’

Clara shook her head. ‘No.’

‘You told no one? Are you sure?’

For a split second Mac’s face flashed into her mind but before she could even process the thought, she heard herself say, ‘No. I promise. I didn’t tell a soul.’

At this Emily relaxed a fraction, though she continued to scan the room with quick nervous glances.

What was she so scared of, Clara wondered. Because there was no doubt about it: Emily certainly seemed afraid of something. She was like a tightly wound spring, as though at any moment she might jump out of her chair and run off into the night. ‘Would you like a drink?’ Clara asked, the normalcy of the question sounding utterly surreal in the circumstances.