Tiff had said she’d seen her from the top window of the pub, and that she was talking to someone, but she couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman. Louisa could see Melissa’s face in her mind’s eye. She remembered her hair – the long spiral curls. She tried to convince herself she was just remembering the photograph the police showed at the appeal, but deep down she knew there was something more. As soon as she’d set eyes on it she’d known it was a face she’d seen before.

Louisa wasn’t looking forward to another day at home, waiting, hoping for news of Melissa. Waiting, dreading Oliver turning up. She’d take her mind off it by phoning the guests she’d marked as ‘those of interest’ on the list, at least get the ball rolling. For those she didn’t have phone numbers for, she’d message on Facebook. Then she’d take Noah out in the pram for a walk – get some fresh air and pay Tiff a visit. She needed to get some of this weight off her chest.

‘I haven’t got time to chat, Lou. I’m off for a church meeting at ten,’ Tiff said, keeping Louisa at the patio door.

‘Oh, okay. Not a problem.’ Louisa checked her watch. It was nine-fifteen. Plenty of time for a quick chat, plus Tiff looked ready: dressed in a powder-blue skirt with a white blouse, face fully made-up – it wasn’t as though she was still in her pyjamas. She did appear flustered though.

‘Maybe later – I’ll pop over sometime this afternoon, yes? I’m assuming you’ve nothing else on?’

Tiff barely waited for an answer before she was sliding the patio door closed. Louisa stood there for a moment, stunned into inaction.

Her legs weakened as her mind jumped to conclusions. Brian. Tiff wanted to get rid of her quickly because her husband was inside.

She put her face up against the glass, cupping her hands either side of her head to get as good a view inside as she could. There wasn’t a direct line of vision into the kitchen so she couldn’t really see anything. She’d wait. Hang around outside, walk up and down the road a bit until she saw whoever it was make their exit.

Slowly pushing the pram back down the side of the house, Louisa made her way to the front. There was no point looking through the lounge window. Tiff rarely used the front room, and if Brian was in the house, that would be the last place they’d be – she wouldn’t chance anyone spotting them so easily. Louisa shut the gate behind her and walked out and to the left, as if she were going back home.

She’d go as far as the church, then turn back.