There was no reply. Maybe he was out back. She walked through towards the back of the house and into the kitchen. It was unremittingly grim. There were steel bars across the only window. And there was no need to open the back door. She could see through the window that it would have been near impossible for anyone to wade through the thicket of nettles that consumed the garden. Much like the teetering stacks of unwashed plates and half-crushed beer cans that were threatening to consume the kitchen.

There was no sign of baby paraphernalia and precious little sign that anyone other than a single male inhabited the place. Had Sadie finally left him and taken the baby with her? That would explain how low he’d been the last few weeks. And from what she could see he must be in a considerably worse state than either she or Jo had imagined. It would also explain why he hadn’t minded spending hours in A & E with Val on Saturday night.

But where was he? Clare really was worried now. What sort of state of mind must he be in to just walk out and leave the front door wide open? And, most importantly, what could she do about it?

Despite having spent the best part of the last two months working with him, she had no conception of what he did with himself when he wasn’t – as she’d assumed at least – at home with Sadie and the baby. It suddenly struck her that other than the discussions they’d had about Beth and the Celtic world there had been precious little substance to their conversations. The whole of the rest of what she knew of him was based on Crabby’s insights and the somewhat one-sided opinions of Stuart Craig.

She made her way back into the hallway. Should she go and look for him? The trouble was she didn’t have the first clue where to find him. Crabby had said he’d had problems with drugs and booze when he was younger. She was relieved at least to see that so far the only signs of alcohol were the empty cans of Sainsbury’s Basics bitter, and you were more likely to drown yourself than get drunk on those.

But what if he’d gone out to try to score some drugs? ‘Score some drugs.’ Listen to yourself, Clare! She didn’t have the first clue about what that really even meant. The sum total of her knowledge of drugs came from one puff on a ‘herbal’ cigarette in her first year, which had resulted in her feeling decidedly queasy. She was distinctly underqualified for stalking the streets of Gloucester in search of likely dealers’ haunts.

There wasn’t much point hanging around here, though. And he wasn’t answering his phone so there was no point sending him a text message. But she could try leaving him a note.