The following morning I bumped into my squirrel mate more or less as I exited the stairwell. He jumped down from a tree, ran straight towards me before stopping abruptly, standing on his hind legs and giving his whiskers a wash.

‘You’re very chipper this morning. Still look like shit, but there’s a bit of a glow about you,’ I commented on his behalf.

‘Yeah, I made a bit of progress with that lass I fancy last night.’

‘Pleased to hear it. When you say “progress”, do you actually mean you might be seeing her again?’

‘She said she might consider it.’

‘Whoops, that doesn’t sound good – bit standoffish. You might want to have a think around why she would say something so noncommittal.’

‘I have, and it’s a concern.’

‘So, you seem to reckon that friend of yours is still alive, then?’

‘It’s looking that way.’

‘What’s with those coppers that said he was a goner? What was their game? You might want to think around that as well. It’s a bit of a worry on the face of things.’

‘If I had to make a guess, I would say that they weren’t coppers, but probably working for someone that Brendan has upset. He mentioned to me that he investigates some dodgy bastards. I reckon they might be after him for money or to give him a kicking. I reckon that’s why he’s gone underground.’

‘Why would they tell you he was dead? If you think around that you’re bound to find it a bit drastic.’

‘I think it was just to shit me up a bit, introduce an element of threat to make me co-operate and treat them with respect.’

‘Sounds like he’s in danger to me. You should think around whether he might need your help, mate.’

‘Well, Grace is trying to unlock the dongle Brendan gave me and I’m helping her with that.’

‘Might be too little too late, son.’

And with that, he leapt away at the sound of a police siren approaching the entrance to the estate. As I walked on past the block that led out to Peckham High Street, I myself received a startle when I saw Boiler Suit Man getting out of a van parked up in one of the residents’ parking bays. The writing on the van read ‘CARFIX MOBILE MECHANIC’. He was walking around a brown Citroën SUV giving it the once-over with another man, presumably the owner of the vehicle. As I approached him the man handed his keys over and left. Boiler Suit Man placed his hands on his hips and arched his body as if trying to relieve some sort of lower back pain. I stopped beside him and said hello. He gave me a pleasant smile and I assumed he recognized me from our encounters at Emily’s estate.