‘I’ll make a note,’ he says. ‘But it seems to me that there are good enough reasons for all of this. People do go into therapy years after an event and they do try and track down the other people involved. Something will trigger a need, it may be a decade or even four decades later, but it can be a force that’s too strong to resist.’

‘But what if the trigger for Alex getting in touch was also the trigger for Nick’s disappearance? Alex told me a bit about the dynamics of the three families that summer. There were underlying tensions. And what about Angus Moody’s involvement? He scuppered that restaurant. Nick knew nothing about it until Alex told him. He would have been extremely angry.’

‘Ms Trelawney, what you’re talking about is life. Restaurants go under. Your partner works in banking. I’m sure he has a healthily pragmatic view about the vagaries of any business, and restaurants are particularly risky. I very much doubt he would blame his boss for making what appears to have been a sensible decision. Presumably Moody hasn’t got where he is today without being able to spot a bad bet when he sees it.’

‘I know, but—’

‘I understand that you’re frightened, but try to be rational. Nick has walked out. No one has seen him, as far as we know, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t staying with a friend, trying to get his head straight. Something will have shaken him so badly that he feels he can’t face his family, but that doesn’t mean he’s in any danger. In fact, the most likely scenario is that he’s holed up somewhere. You have to be patient and have faith. From what you tell me, Nick has plenty of common sense. He doesn’t sound like the sort to misjudge a situation.’

‘I know something’s happened to him. You have to believe me.’

In my distress I squeeze my hand round the white plastic beaker I’ve been holding, and it collapses in on itself. Water splashes over my coat, trousers and the back of Marsh’s desk. I leap up and try to mop up the mess with my sleeve, but water trickles around the base of his keyboard and soaks into a pad of paper. Marsh remains calm, moving everything to one side. Another officer hands him a box of tissues. He pulls out a wad and dabs at the mess.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He dries a pen and puts it to one side.

‘Will you speak to Nick’s boss? He’s out of London, but his assistant will have a contact number for him.’

‘Do you think he’ll be able to shed some light on what’s happened?’