‘I’ll get it.’ Dad shuffles out of the kitchen in his slippers. At the same time Mum appears from the living room with her laptop in her hands. She joins me at the sink and lifts it up so it’s at eye level.

‘Claire, I know you said you didn’t want to hear about any more psychics but someone called Athena Larkin has been in touch. She said she’s helped the police in a number of high-profile cases and—’

‘Claire! It’s Kira. She says she’s come to collect the car.’

‘One second, Dad!’

Mum paws at my shoulder. ‘At least read the email she sent. She says that—’

‘Are those the keys?’ Dad shuffles back into the room and points towards the kitchen table where my car keys are lying on top of my handbag.

‘Yes. Hang on a second, though, because there’s something I need to— Mum, could you get the laptop out of my face? It’s going to get wet and anyway, I told you I’m not interested in—’

‘Got them.’

‘But we’re back at square one now, aren’t we? And it’s not like the police have got any new leads. Not from what you said last night, anyway. Look at this part.’ Mum takes one hand off the base and points to the screen.

‘Careful!’ I reach for the laptop as it lurches towards the sink. The oven tray I’ve been holding drops back into the washing-up bowl, spraying me with soapy water.

I’m vaguely aware of the front door closing with a click and the sound of Dad walking back to the kitchen but I’m distracted by my T-shirt clinging damply to my stomach.

‘Claire!’ Mum whips the laptop away from me. ‘You nearly knocked it into the water.’

‘I was trying to stop you from dropping it!’

‘What the hell’s going on in here?’ Dad stops in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Claire, there’s half a swimming pool on the kitchen floor! Bloody hell, girl. That’s what happens when you get a dishwasher. You forget how to do the washing-up.’

‘Dad.’ I look from the kitchen table to my dad’s empty hands.

‘Yes, love.’

‘Did you just give Kira the keys to my car?’

‘Yeah. She said you’d given her the okay to borrow it.’ He glances back towards the front door.

‘Claire!’ he shouts as I sprint down the hall. ‘Claire? What’s the matter?’

I wrench the door open and stare out onto the street but my red Polo is no longer parked behind Dad’s blue Peugeot. It’s gone. Along with Kira, the tote bag tucked under the passenger seat, and the knife.

Tuesday 27th January 2015

ICE9: Don’t you EVER do that again.

Jackdaw44: What?

ICE9: You know damned well what.

Jackdaw44: Twat now, am I? You changed your tune quickly enough.