‘Steep Holm,’ I say and the darkness in my mind fades from black to grey at the sight of the familiar lump of rock in the distance. ‘Jake, I’m in Weston-super-Mare.’

As he relays the information I feel a sudden desperate urge to throw open the window and inhale great lungfuls of sea air but when I yank at the sash it only opens a couple of inches at the bottom.

‘Do you know which hotel, Mum?’ Jake asks. ‘If you stay where you are we’ll come and get you.’

It’s a small room: shabby but warm and clean. The floral wallpaper behind the bed is peeling in one corner and when I open the door to the en suite there are no branded toiletries, just a bar of soap in a frilled wrapper and a glass, misted with age, on the shelf above the sink. There is no welcome pack on the table that holds the tea and coffee things, no branded coaster or complimentary notepad.

‘Reception,’ I say. ‘Need to find reception.’ But then I spot a fire-evacuation notice pinned next to the door. It is signed at the bottom by Steve Jenkins, Owner, Day’s Rest B&B.

‘Day’s Rest,’ I say. ‘I’m at Day’s Rest B&B.’

‘The one we used to stay in as kids,’ Jake says and I have to steady myself against the wall as a wave of grief knocks the breath from my lungs.

Billy.

I have two sons. Jake and Billy. Billy is missing. He’s missing.

‘Mum?’ The worry in Jake’s voice bounces off me like a stone skimming the sea.

I snatch up my handbag, my boots and my socks and I reach for the door handle.

‘Mum?’ he says again as I yank open the door.

‘Billy!’ I scream into the empty corridor. ‘Billy, where are you? Where are you, son?’

Friday 22nd August 2014

Jackdaw44: You there?

ICE9: Yep.

Jackdaw44: Liv is a bitch.

ICE9: Who’s Liv?

Jackdaw44: Girl I was seeing.

ICE9: I didn’t know.

Jackdaw44: You wouldn’t. I keep my shit private.

ICE9: OK …

Jackdaw44: But I’m pissed off today. Need to talk to someone. I know you can keep secrets.

ICE9: It’s up to you to tell your mum what you saw, not me.

Jackdaw44: And that’s why you’re cool.

ICE9: Ha! I’ve never been called that before. So why is Liv a bitch?

Jackdaw44: She told Jess not to go out with me. She totally slagged me. Said I’ve got a small dick.

ICE9: Have you?

Jackdaw44: Go fuck yourself.

Chapter 9

The man behind the reception desk jumps as I slam up against it.

‘Is he here?’

‘Is who here?’ He’s a tall man, over six foot with balding hair and an auburn moustache. The buttons of his shirt strain over his gut.