She did, in that halting, washed-out, carefully blank voice of hers. She did her best to make what Quill’s phone messages had said sound positive. She emphasized that nothing had been found at the scene of the last phone call, outside Finchley Road tube station. There was CCTV footage of Quill dashing off, as if certain of where he was going, but the view of the camera didn’t stretch far enough to see what he was heading for. There were no further witnesses so far. Sarah knew what they were thinking might be found. ‘We’re doing everything we can. We’ve been on this since that moment. Mrs Quill…’ Then her voice changed, and Sarah got an inkling of why Quill told her he had such faith in this woman. ‘Sarah. This is all we’re doing now. We’re going to find him. I swear to you, I’ll call you as soon as there’s news. Okay?’

Sarah gave Lisa all her numbers and said goodbye too quickly and ended the call. Quill would turn up having finally come out from his hiding place, smelling of shit. She would be so happy to see him. She could see his face.

Was this what it was like when it wasn’t a false alarm? Was this what it was like when the worst possible thing finally happened?

She could feel the first tug of something that felt impossibly big. If she didn’t think about this yet, she could hold it off. It might go away as things turned out to be okay. Oh, she hated him for doing this to her; she was so angry at him …

That stone in her stomach again. She felt hungry, but she knew she’d just look at what she might make to eat and not want it, and it would feel bad to start making it. She felt desperately sleepy too, stupidly so, but she didn’t want to sleep in case the phone rang.

She went to the door of Jessica’s room, intending to go in and take comfort in looking at her, but then she stopped. She didn’t want to bring the stone in her into Jessica’s presence. She didn’t want it to multiply.

She went to bed. She actually went to bed and fell straight to sleep, as if this was a normal day.

The sound of the phone on the bedside table woke her up. She told Quill to please answer that. When he didn’t, she remembered.

She grabbed the phone and nearly switched it off in her scramble to answer it.

Her name, spoken by this professional, caring, careful voice of a stranger, as a question, was the most terrifying thing she had ever heard.

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO

‘Thanks for that,’ said Quill, as Gaiman brought the car to a halt. They had stopped in a side street somewhere near Edgware Road.