A whole week he’d been searching. Seven dark, grey days and cold nights. Tonight, it was raining. Icy, slashing rain, which seemed to be seeping into his bones.

Debating whether to ring Alicia again, Justin decided against. He had no news, and with each passing day, that was definitely bad news. Alicia had promised to ring him the minute she heard anything from Taylor, which might be never. The police had had no sightings of Sophie, though that didn’t surprise Justin. She was obviously going to stay a low-priority case. Bitterness, like corrosive acid, rose painfully in his chest.

Alicia was out there too, handing out leaflets, visiting the various places they’d discussed, talking to kids at the school. Endlessly searching faces in the street. Justin had no doubt she would be doing that. He wished he could talk to her properly, communicate on anything but the most basic level. The fact was, though, he simply couldn’t talk about anything that touched on who they were before. Who he’d thought they were. Couldn’t bear to allow his mind to think about the future they didn’t have. He needed to stay focussed on finding Sophie. It was the only way he knew how to get through each day.

Concentrating his efforts, Justin walked on through the city streets, counting paving stones as he went, which at least occupied his mind if it did nothing to help calm him. Sleep might help, but that only ever came now to haunt him. Reaching the area he’d been heading for, where young and old slept rough in the city centre, Justin pulled out his photo of Sophie, showing it to a few people, getting no information. Then stopped, his chest constricting as he noticed a young girl around Sophie’s age.

She was a drug user. Justin noted the paraphernalia around her but didn’t judge her. One week observing the people here had altered his thinking. These kids were hooked. And once they were, it seemed there was rarely any going back. No going forward either, becoming the people they could be. They were stuck – slaves to their addiction. It was a lesson well learned in regard to the drug users who came into accident and emergency.

Seemingly oblivious to him as he walked towards her, the girl concentrated on her endeavours. Her head shot up as he stopped directly in front of her, her expression one of alarm.

‘Sorry,’ Justin said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘Are you after my stuff?’ she asked, a panicky look in her eyes.

‘No,’ he assured her. ‘I’m looking for my daughter. I wondered whether—’

‘Haven’t seen her,’ she said immediately.

Justin sighed and massaged his forehead. ‘I haven’t shown you her photo yet.’

She shrugged and continued with her task, drawing her brew up into a syringe and flicking the needle. A long-term user then, Justin surmised, a knot of anger tightening his stomach. No matter how much he counted, he couldn’t seem to reach a point where his emotions weren’t pivoting between fury, fatigue, fear and despair.

‘Do you mind if I sit?’ he asked her.

She looked up again, seeming to measure him. ‘Not if you don’t,’ she said chirpily.

She was pretty. Unusual coloured eyes, somewhere between hazel and green – pupils constricted, meaning she was possibly a heroin user. Lowering himself down beside her, Justin felt his heart constrict. Seeing the eyebrow stud, in the same place as Sophie’s, he looked away, trying hard not to see his daughter sitting in the same place as this young girl. If she was still alive. He clamped down hard on that thought.

‘Is she missing?’ she asked him. ‘Your daughter?’

Justin nodded wearily and dragged a hand over his neck.

‘So why did she split?’

‘We had some problems. Her mother and me. We argued. Things were said. Things that Sophie overheard. Things she shouldn’t have.’ Justin paused, his gut aching, tears too damn close, he realised, gulping back a lump in his throat. ‘Do you ever wish you could turn the clock back?’ he asked her.

‘Every day,’ she assured him, with a wry smile.

‘I should go,’ Justin said, attempting to compose himself.

‘Do you have that photo?’ she asked, as he got to his feet.

Relieved she was prepared to at least look at it, Justin pulled it from his inside pocket and handed it to her.

She scanned it, then looked back at him. ‘I think I might have seen her,’ she said, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. ‘About a week ago, hanging around New Street Station. I remember thinking she shouldn’t be. She didn’t get on a train though.’

‘Oh?’ Justin said, his heart rate spiking.

‘She left with some bloke, eventually.’

Fuck. Justin swallowed hard. ‘Can you remember what he looked like?’ he asked, hoping against hope that she might.

‘Not really. An older bloke, quite tall, dark. They left eating chips together, so I figured she must know him.’

‘Do you remember what clothes he was wearing?’ Justin tried to keep the desperation from his voice.

She shook her head. ‘Jeans and trainers. I can’t remember what jacket. They were clean though. He’d didn’t look like a deadbeat.’

Tall, dark; wearing jeans and trainers. Justin sighed inwardly. She could be describing half the male population.