I kept walking, walking, walking. Not running.

There would be a simple explanation.

Nine times out of ten.

Once I reached the lane by the church, I had to break into a run. I slipped and stumbled along the icy mud, and once I went down on my knees, but I recovered and ran again. I ran across the field to the farm. I have never been a natural runner, and the exertion made my heart thump hard against my ribs.

The steam from the power station clung to the tops of the towers, white against the blue-black sky. I used to think of those clouds of steam as like snow clouds, hanging on mountaintops, just as you see in paintings. But that night they looked exactly like what Mum had always said they were: clouds of smoke, billowing into the atmosphere; dirty, thick, unstoppable.

I couldn’t see anyone on the farm; it was all dark, and there was a dog barking, so I hammered on the big corrugated iron doors of the turkey shed and I hollered Robert’s name, but there was just the dog barking, louder and louder.

I hammered on the shed doors again. My pulse was pounding in my throat.

‘What do you want?’ A torch was in my face; a man’s breath was wet in the air between us.

‘I’m Robert’s – Rob’s – father. Howard Hall.’

‘Yes?’

‘He was here, earlier, working for you, he’s gone missing, nothing I expect, nothing at all, but I was worried, so – ’

‘There’s no one here.’ The man switched off his torch. I could see his round face, his red-rimmed eyes, and I recognised him as the man with the clipboard. ‘They all went home hours ago.’ He looked at me and I realised my teeth were chattering. ‘I’d go home, if I were you.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘He’s probably there by now, eh?’

When I got back to the house Kathryn opened the door before I could knock, and I knew he wasn’t home. I pushed past her and strode down the hall and into the kitchen, shouting for him.

‘Robert, Robert! I’m getting fed up with this game! Where are you, for Christ’s sake?’ I opened the back door and stood on the frozen grass and yelled. ‘Robert! Robert! Where are you?’

Kathryn was still standing in the front doorway, so I pushed past her again and rushed into the road, calling. I must have been out there for ten minutes, calling like that, with Kathryn standing on the doorstep, watching me in silence. I could see people looking out of their curtains, lights going on in upstairs bedrooms, nets suddenly shuddering, but I carried on shouting my son’s name. But it didn’t matter how loud I shouted, my voice just disappeared into the night.