Ever since we’ve known her, Kira has been snapping away, taking photographs. She did a project last year called ‘The Face of Terror’ where she made us watch scary films while she took photos. She even went round to Liz and Lloyd’s to do the same. Billy must have confided in her that he regretted getting his tattoo done and she took a photo as part of her project. That’s why she told Jake she didn’t want him to come to her exhibition. She didn’t want him to see it and get upset.

End of mystery. End of story. There’s nothing more to it than that.

I feel flat and drained as I continue to trudge up the street. It starts to rain and I pull the hood of my jacket up over my head as I continue to stare into the windows of cafés and restaurants but I do it half-heartedly. All sense of urgency has gone. I still need to get my car keys so I can retrieve my tote bag and get rid of the knife but—

I double-back and take a second look through the window of Mama Valerie’s. Kira is inside, sitting at a table near the door. I nearly missed her because the rain is falling heavily now and her hair is gathered up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She almost always wears it down. She’s sitting opposite a man but I can’t make out his face from this angle. I take another step back down the hill and see a flash of auburn hair, a russet-coloured goatee, a long-sleeved black top, a pair of long khaki shorts and a tribal tattoo on a hairy calf.

‘Lloyd?’ His name catches in my throat.

What is Liz’s husband doing having coffee with my son’s girlfriend?

A group of teenaged girls push past me and I’m buffeted towards the open door of the café. I can still see Lloyd’s face and a sliver of Kira’s profile. He hunches forward in his seat, staring at her intently as she swipes at her eyes. What is she saying? And why is she crying?

Lloyd says something, then reaches a hand across the table as though inviting her to take it. As he moves, the sleeve of his top slides up revealing a flash of black ink on his forearm. Kira snatches her hands from the table and shakes her head. She fans at her face with both hands as though trying to stop herself from crying. After a couple of seconds she stops fanning herself and fumbles with the button of her cardigan instead. She pushes the grey material from her shoulders, then leans across the table towards Lloyd.

He says something else that I can’t make out but I lip-read the very last word he says.

‘Liz.’