Two hours later, despite an extensive search, there was no sign of Rory. Angelina was frantic. Robert Jones had suggested she sit quietly in Frederiks’s study, or go home until there was news, but she’d insisted on joining in the search.

Robert Jones stood at the entrance to Fleat House with Matron and watched as Angelina tore across the lawn and into the chapel, screaming Rory’s name.

‘The woman’s hysterical. Is there anyone we can call to be with her?’

‘She’s tried contacting her ex-husband, and, I believe, her boyfriend, a Mr Forbes, but neither of them are answering her calls.’ Matron sniffed.

Robert sighed. ‘I’ve told her we have police officers on the premises assisting with the search.’ He turned and stared at her. ‘You don’t think anything’s happened to him, do you?’

Matron rounded on him. ‘He was hardly happy here, was he? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s run away, poor little shrimp.’

The headmaster paused. ‘Was there a problem with Rory?’

Matron’s eyes glinted. ‘Oh, I think you know there was, Headmaster. I’d better be getting back to the other boys. Mr Frederiks has cut short his outing with the boys and is on his way back in the minibus.’

‘I’m going to ask one of the officers to drive Mrs Millar home and stay with her there until there’s news.’

‘I’ll go and fetch her from the chapel and stay with her until you do.’

Robert Jones hardly looked up as Matron walked across Chapel Lawn. The school, and his life, seemed to be slowly disintegrating about him.

Angelina sat in the passenger seat of her car and stared silently out of the window as the woman police constable drove to her house. She managed to indicate when to turn into her drive, then climbed wearily out of the car.

‘Would you like me to come in with you, Mrs Millar?’

‘No, my . . . partner is inside. I’ll be fine. But thanks anyway.’

‘We’ll be in touch the minute there’s some news. Try not to worry.’

Angelina didn’t reply. She headed for the front door. It opened before she reached it. Julian stood there.

‘Any news on Rory?’

Angelina shook her head wearily, fighting back the tears. ‘I tried to call you to come down to the school and help me look for him.’

‘I was busy. Sorry.’

She turned on him. ‘What the hell do you mean you were “busy”?! My son has gone missing! He might be lying dead somewhere and you tell me you were busy! Christ!’

‘Angelina, I—’

She moved past him and headed for the stairs. ‘Leave me alone, Julian, just leave me alone!’

David arrived in the early evening, tired but triumphant, at the bed and breakfast just on the shore of Lake Windermere. He’d called the landlady on his way up to the Lake District, from a public phone box, just in case the police were already after them and could get hold of numbers dialled on his mobile. He asked if it was all right if he and his son moved their booking forward and arrived this afternoon.