‘Follow me,’ I said. I had grown up in this area; I knew it like I knew the lines on my hands, including its tangle of alleyways, which would make for good pockets to lie low in.

It was starting to rain. We barrelled towards a parked car, and had ducked out of sight by the time two of the Underbodies rounded the corner behind us. They argued and swore for a while before they separated. One raced past our hiding spot and inspected several buildings before disappearing beneath the archway at the very end of the road, into the public square beyond.

As soon as he was gone, I tugged Nick’s sleeve and pulled him a little farther, towards what looked, to the naked eye, like a shop. The front of the building was white stone, shifting to red brick from the second floor up. You would assume it had two entrances, but I knew that one of them – the narrow one – led to an alley. Hard to make out with a hasty glance; I doubted the Underbody had even seen it. I had often spied people smoking there during the week. Nick followed me inside, under the engraved name, the only thing that gave it away: PASSING ALLEY.

We stopped to catch our breath. The alley was closed, cool and dark, just about wide enough for us to stand opposite one another without touching.

‘Damn it … I can’t believe Hector showed,’ Nick said. ‘He must really want Metyard.’

I massaged my aching throat. ‘I can’t believe he had the same idea we did.’

‘He’s lazy, but he’s also smart. Did you see where she went?’

‘Took a right back there.’ I motioned to the street. ‘The Underbodies went after her.’

‘She’ll lose them soon enough. But it means we’ve lost our bait for Metyard.’ I could only just make out his face. ‘Paige, we have to work out where Metyard will go next, before Hector does.’

‘Does he have a binder in his gang?’

‘Yes.’ He blotted sweat from his brow. ‘Personally, I think she’ll pick up on Anne’s presence and chase her.’

‘Then we need to start thinking like Anne,’ I said. ‘To work out where she’d run.’

‘Exactly. Consider it: you’re a young girl, an orphan, neglected and abused by the two women you were working for. You come from the workhouse with your sister, but your sister can’t protect you. You’re vulnerable and afraid, and you have a weak constitution, so you’re not physically strong. Nobody helped you. When you died, nobody cared. Where would you go?’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Personally, I think we should consider the site of the Metyard house in Bruton Street.’

‘The house she died in?’ I said, unconvinced. ‘That’s the last place I’d want to go.’

‘It’s a strong possibility. Poltergeists often are drawn to the place they died.’