‘You’re popular today,’ Hannah commented. It was the second time in the space of an hour he had ignored whoever was trying to get hold of him. She watched as he fired off a brief text. ‘No one you want to speak to?’

‘Actually, I do, but it can wait.’

He glanced at his phone again as a text pinged through, frowning as he read it.

‘Is everything okay, Liam?’

‘Sorry? Yeah, it’s fine.’ He set his phone down and smiled at her, but it looked a little forced. ‘So, what do I need to know about your mother?’

Another convenient subject change, but Hannah played along. She noticed he seemed distracted though.

A short while after he had finished his coffee, he got up to leave.

‘I thought you were going to stay for dinner?’ she asked, surprised.

‘I actually forgot I have an appointment.’

Really? Where had that suddenly come from? Was he blowing her off?

Hannah slipped her cool, couldn’t care less, mask into place, as she watched him attach Tank’s leash and both of them left, thinking only after the door had closed that no arrangements had been made for the weekend.

Given how he had just reacted, would he even be going?

She wouldn’t lower herself to ask. She was certain she wasn’t being paranoid.

Whatever it was, she wouldn’t chase. If he wanted anything else from her, she was sure he would soon be in touch.

34

Callers who don’t leave messages make me nervous.

I have two different phones. One for work and one for playing games, and I am careful who I give my number to. Anyone who needs to get hold of me is already on my contact list.

I was busy when the first call came in and wariness had me declining the second one.

It seems someone wants to speak to me urgently, so why have they not left me a voicemail?

After the second missed call, curiosity got the better of me and I sent the unknown number a text. Three simple words.

Who is this?

The reply hadn’t taken long to come.

Is this Bill Wickham?

Who wants to know? I am desperate to find out, but I don’t reply immediately, instead making sure I am alone before I reply.

Who are you and what do you want?

It feels like forever, staring at my phone, waiting for a response. My skin is crawling with paranoia.

Eventually it comes.

It’s Lauren Bell. I’m sure you remember me from Hixton. I need to talk to you. It’s important.

What the fuck? How has that stuck-up little bitch managed to get my number?

My reply is blunt and instant.

Fuck off.

No pleasantries. We’re not friends, and Lauren played a role in sending Mum to prison. She has a bloody nerve contacting me.

I am about to block her number when another message comes through.