I haven’t prepared for this. I’m normally a cautious man who prefers to think about my actions first and plan for all eventualities. But sometimes I find myself caught in a moment and I need to act. Like now. I’m on the move, following her taxi, stalking her like prey.

Mia has no reason to believe that I’m behind her. It helps that I’m not in the company van, I’m using Debbie’s car, which is about as generic as vehicles get. I also have plenty of surveillance experience and am adept at keeping a low profile, so I leave a stretch of distance between us to remain unseen.

We’ve already been on the road for ten minutes, and the longer this journey continues, the more my pulse jackhammers. The only reason I have an idea of what she has planned is because I overheard her talking to Finn in the kitchen shortly before she left, and even then, I only caught a few words. But they were enough to concern me.

Finn seemed to be suggesting it wasn’t a good idea but she was digging her heels in and refusing to back down. I don’t want to lose track of her because I need to see for myself what she’s up to. How does that old saying go? ‘Take charge of your own destiny or somebody else will.’

Her taxi pulls over at a small branch of Waitrose and she exits, wearing her black suit and sunglasses. She disappears inside for a few minutes, reappearing with a

bouquet of white lilies which she peels the label off as she walks back towards the vehicle. Then their journey continues.

The car remains at a steady speed until we reach the first of a series of roundabouts that Milton Keynes is infamous for. Then a further fifteen minutes pass before we arrive in the north of the town and now we are following signs for Crownhill Crematorium. There’s a sour taste in my mouth. Eventually, the taxi pulls into its car park while I remain outside at the kerb. She takes the flowers and, as she closes the door, she pats out the creases from her dress.

She makes her way towards the arched glass and brick building and I turn my engine off. I pull a can of lager from my toolbox, sink into my seat and watch Mia approach a group waiting outside the main entrance. She stops short before she reaches them and stands alone, suggesting she doesn’t know them.

Without meaning to, I’ve already finished my drink and I curse myself for it. Lately, the contents of these cans are barely touching the inside of my mouth before I’ve drained them. I’m aware of a sudden sharp, burning pain in my gut and I don’t have my pills with me. I make a mental note to text Jakub to bring me more on site tomorrow. I don’t know or care where he gets them from but they’re much stronger than the over-the-counter painkillers I’ve used in the past. For now, I reach for another can, to at least soften the jagged edges these episodes bring.

Then I take my phone from the dashboard stand and go online to visit the Milton Keynes Citizens’ Births, Deaths and Marriages section. I’m slow to read it, stumbling over the words and speaking them aloud.

I know the name. She is the third child found in Finn’s attic to have been formally identified. But why the hell is Mia going to her funeral?

A hearse pulls on to the crematorium’s driveway. I slip on my glasses and get a better look at the girl’s name spelled out in the white carnations leaning against a white, child-sized coffin. I briefly picture my own name inside a hearse next to my coffin and I wonder what flowers Debbie will choose for me and whether they’ll spell out Dave or David.

A restlessness rises up and through me and I know that I have to leave. I turn the ignition and within seconds I re- join the flow of traffic, leaving behind my none-the-wiser daughter-in-law.