Heading towards the canal towpath, planning to cover a section of the main line out of Birmingham, Justin stopped at the doorway of a derelict shop to talk to a guy who was tucked into his sleeping bag.

‘Spare some change, mate?’ the guy asked as Justin approached him. His look wasn’t hopeful – more resigned. Any vitality he might have once had in his eyes had been dulled; by booze, Justin guessed, noting the several empty beer cans to his side.

Justin offered him a smile. ‘I’m looking for someone,’ he said. The guy recoiled, shuffling further into the doorway, assuming he was something to do with the police. ‘My daughter,’ he elaborated, drawing Sophie’s photo from his inside pocket.

The guy looked warily up at him and then down to the photo. Looking at it for a second, he shook his head. Justin sighed. Even if alcohol hadn’t addled his brain, the chances were the guy wouldn’t remember anyway.

Sighing, he nodded his thanks and reached into his pocket again, this time for money, though it went against the grain. Maybe the guy would buy food; maybe he’d spend it on booze. The dog would get fed, though. Justin was certain of that. Checking his watch, he bent down to pat the animal, then headed for the towpath, hoping that this time he might get lucky.

The wind was bitter, channelled by abandoned factory buildings, converted warehouses and high embankments. It stung his face and sliced through his clothes. Pulling his collar high, chilled to the bone, he thought about Sophie, and the clothes she’d been wearing, which would do nothing to warm her. He walked on, speaking to homeless people as he went. Receiving nothing but negative answers to his questions, some incoherent mumblings, he searched all the likely places: benches located within walking distance of one-stop shops and garages, bridges that provided sparse protection from the elements, counting them off as he went.

He’d gone a fair distance when his phone buzzed. Pulling it from his pocket, Justin checked the caller display, and then furrowed his brow and took the call. ‘Jessica?’

‘Justin, I have to be quick. Alicia doesn’t know I’m calling you.’ Jess’s voice was a hurried whisper, which immediately rang alarm bells.

‘And?’ Apprehensively, Justin urged her on.

‘I wouldn’t normally go behind her back, but I think she won’t want to tell you, so—’

‘Jess, can you just cut to the chase,’ Justin interrupted, his gut clenching.

‘He’s had a test. Paul Radley, he’s had a paternity test, apparently, and I think you should know. I did suggest to Alicia that she should—’

‘I do know,’ Justin cut across her.

‘You do?’ Jessica sounded surprised.

‘We talked. She told me.’

‘Oh.’ Jessica went quiet. ‘Well, that’s good,’ she went on, after a second. ‘That’s she’s finally decided to talk to you, I mean. It’s a pity she didn’t years ago. She’s my sister and I love her to bits, and she’s beside herself with remorse now, but I told her she needed to tell you everything from the beginning.’

Justin ran his hand over his neck. He was too tired for repeat conversations. ‘I know, Jess. You said.’

‘She hasn’t told you everything, has she?’ Jess asked, sounding tentative.

‘No,’ Justin said tightly. However well-intentioned Jess was, ringing him several times to see if he ‘needed a shoulder’, he really didn’t want to discuss this, not now.

‘I have no idea why she saw him as many times as she did,’ Jess carried on regardless. ‘You can understand how she might have been—’

‘Jess! I don’t want to hear it,’ Justin snapped, images of his wife in bed with the bastard assailing him all over again, images that counting all the stars in the universe wouldn’t make go away. ‘I really do not want to know.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ Jess said quickly. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted you to know that I don’t condone what Alicia did. I couldn’t tell you, I was sworn to secrecy, and I had to be there for her. I still do, but I wanted you to know I’m there for you too.’

Nodding tiredly, Justin drew in a breath. ‘I know. I just can’t deal with it right now.’

Ending the call, Justin felt the knife that had been plunged into his heart twist an inch deeper. A sharp, violent twist, made more painful by the knowledge that Alicia must have known this would all come out while he’d been burying his son. That cocksure bastard had been right there at the funeral. She must have suspected he would find out what had gone on between them, and still she’d kept the truth from him. Attempting some level of control, Justin tried to breathe through it. It didn’t work. He didn’t stand a chance of ousting the images now in his mind: Luke smiling at him on that fateful day of the accident, his little arms flailing delightedly. He’d sworn to keep his son safe. He hadn’t. Justin breathed in, kept counting.

Sophie’s words whispered on the wind as he walked. He’s nestled safe in an angel’s wings now, but he will never leave me. He’s here. He will always be.

Where was she?