Simone nods, though she is unconvinced.

Polly is thrilled to discover Lewa, and Jasmine takes to her immediately. As Polly and Simone make calls, Lewa entertains the toddler with the exotic contents of her handbag – a nail file, a pack of tissues, a rogue coin – none of which contain nutmeg but somehow are still seeped in the smell of it. After a while, Lewa folds Jasmine into her lap, and sings to her. The little girl closes her eyes. Half-remembered gospel-turned-lullaby drifts over the child and around Simone’s ears, nutmeg tickling her nostrils, and for a second she closes her own eyes too, wishing more than anything that she could return to Lewa’s old, cosy flat, where Noah was wrapped in love and belief, and she was wrapped in him. But of course. she must leave this music, that after all did lead to one good thing: Dominic, who has Noah’s sensitivity if not his talent. She must find their son.

It is agreed that Lewa will stay and tend to Jasmine. Polly will return to the office to coordinate efforts between the police, the council and the school. Simone will search the streets. Polly did not want to allow this last part of the plan, but she cannot stop her, and if anybody is going to find Dominic, Simone is convinced it will be her. She starts at the estate. Terry has friends here, one of them is sleeping in their old flat, and Simone feels anxious as soon as she draws near; but she does not think that Terry will have told anybody about her leaving. Not yet. He won’t want that humiliation broadcast, he’ll need time first to spin it, or to take revenge. Still, Simone holds her breath as she approaches the Concourse.

It is like taking a tour of the past decade. There, hanging off the wall outside the bet shop, sit herself and Noah – his arm draped around her, proud, confident, his friends spellbound by the sparks that fly from his eyes and mingle with their own. There, are herself and Dominic – younger, lighter, fingers entwined as they dash, late, past others who are loitering. There she is again, bottle in hand, half conscious, eyes blurred, on her knees.

Simone shakes her head. Already, the walls have erected themselves inside her, towering around her, it has started to rain again and it is difficult to see. Clenching her fists, she strides purposefully forward.

The boys on the wall haven’t seen Dominic, they say, not since the night before. Horror pushes through Simone’s chest with the knowledge that he has been here, hanging out, doing goodness knows what, without her knowing a thing, but for now she pushes this concern away. Where next? He is not by their old flat or with any of their old friends on the estate. She looks into a number of stairwells, but he is not there either. She circles back past Jakub’s house but Jakub is out, his mother tells her, a scathing look in her eye, Jakub is out looking for Dominic. Simone nods a thanks, an apology, and scuttles away. At first, she does not know where she is heading. She glances into the park, the newsagent, the tube station. She passes deep crowds of people trundling home from work. She walks up and then back down Camden’s bridge. It is only once she had gone well past Chalk Farm tube and halfway to Kentish Town that Simone realises where she is going. The same place her son was aiming for days earlier. The iron railings of the steps seem less imposing than she remembers. The deep blue of the door is less shiny. But here is the step she sat on, hollering for the neighbours to hear. Here is the step from which she was turned away, pregnant or not. Here is the step upon which she used to stand listening, hoping to hear music, or TV, or voices that never came.