‘That’s what we all want.’

‘I’ve made things worse for her. But it was so nice for me when she came back. Even when she’s in trouble herself, she makes the world seem safer.’

‘Do you know where she is now?’

‘No. I told that policewoman and it’s true. She wouldn’t say. I’ve tried calling her but she doesn’t answer.’

‘No idea at all?’

‘I don’t know if I’d tell you if I had. But I haven’t.’

‘How did she seem?’

‘All right. Not scared. Calm. Purposeful. You know what she can be like.’ Karlsson nodded: he did. ‘She was good with Ethan as well, in a stern kind of way.’ She smiled, remembering. ‘If he cried because he wanted something, it was as if she didn’t hear him. He keeps asking about her and the other kids.’

‘What others?’

‘She looked after two other young children as well.’

‘Frieda looked after three children?’

‘I know – it’s hard to imagine. The parents were good friends of Sandy – I think Al worked with him.’

‘I see,’ said Karlsson. A smile twisted his lips. ‘That was rather sneaky of her. Do you know their names?’

‘Al and Bridget. Hang on. Let me think.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘She had an Italian name. Bellucci? I think that’s right. I don’t know his last name. Why?’

‘They might know something.’

‘Is she going to be all right?’

Karlsson looked at her tightly plaited hands. Then the doorbell rang.

‘That’ll be Frank,’ said Sasha. ‘He’s come to return some of Ethan’s clothes.’ She pushed her hair behind her ears.

Karlsson stood up as Frank came into the room. They hadn’t known each other well, and hadn’t seen each other since the break-up, but Frank shook his hand warmly and asked after his children, even remembering their names. They left the house together.

‘Drink?’ asked Frank, as they stepped onto the pavement.

Karlsson looked at his watch. It was still not nine o’clock.

‘Two men with nothing to go home to,’ said Frank.

‘You make it sound sad.’

‘There’s a place at the end of the road.’

Karlsson couldn’t think of a reason to say no. That seemed sad as well.

Frank came across to the table, carrying two glasses of beer and two packets of crisps. ‘You’re looking at me with your detective’s eye,’ he said.

Karlsson shook his head. ‘I feel like I’m seeing myself in a mirror. Except that the person in the mirror is a bit younger and is wearing a much nicer suit.’

Frank glanced down at his pinstriped suit, his open-necked white shirt, as if it had taken him by surprise. ‘I’ve been in court. It’s really just a uniform.’

‘Did you win?’

‘It wasn’t much of a victory. The prosecution mislaid some evidence and their key witness didn’t turn up. The judge directed the jury to acquit.’

‘You’re good,’ said Karlsson. ‘That’s what I’ve heard.’

‘I can sense a “but” coming.’

‘It’s an “and”, not a “but”.’

Frank ripped open the two packets of crisps. ‘You’ve completely lost me.’

‘It’s about Frieda. I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Oh.’ Frank held Karlsson’s gaze. ‘Before you go on, I expect you know I was angry with her for a while.’

‘I had heard.’

‘I blamed her for the break-up with Sasha.’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘Easier than blaming myself, I suppose.’

‘I suppose it is. Are you still angry?’

‘Not so much. She was always Sasha’s friend, first and foremost – and she’s someone you want as a friend, isn’t she? Someone you want on your side.’

‘She is that,’ said Karlsson.

‘So I understand now that she was being Sasha’s friend. She thought Sasha needed to leave me. Perhaps she was right. Though –’ He stopped and rubbed his face with both hands. ‘What were you wanting to ask about Frieda?’

‘I’ve never quite known what to think about the things she does. I’ve visited her in a police cell and I’ve visited her in intensive care, but this is something else. I can’t believe it can end well. But, however it ends, she’s going to need help.’

‘She’s got friends,’ said Frank.

‘Good friends. But what she’ll really need is a good lawyer.’

‘She’s got a lawyer, hasn’t she?’

‘She’s got a solicitor, Tanya Hopkins. She and Frieda didn’t see eye to eye.’

Frank nodded. ‘It’s the job of a solicitor to tell the truth. Often it’s the truth that the client doesn’t want to hear.’

‘That’s not true of Frieda.’

‘No, I guess not.’

‘That’s part of Frieda’s problem. She doesn’t want to get off. She wants the truth.’

Frank smiled. ‘The courtroom isn’t like therapy. It’s about winning and losing.’

‘So, what do you think?’

Frank took a gulp of beer. ‘I don’t know. As you know, the police don’t like being made fools of. Bear in mind that I knew the murder victim and I’m the ex-partner of one of the accused’s best friends. But I’ll do anything I can. Just keep me in touch. Here.’ He took a business card out of his wallet and handed it across. ‘If she breaks cover, I’ll be happy to talk to her. Though she might not want to talk to me.’

There was a pause while the two men drank their beer and helped themselves to the crisps.

‘She was looking after Ethan for a while, you know,’ said Frank.

‘Yes. Did you know about it?’

‘What? At the time? Of course not. Sasha only told me afterwards, when the police were suspicious. Frieda had left, and she was in pieces. Thank God – I would have reported it at once. I’m a barrister, for God’s sake. I would have been struck off if I’d known and kept silent. But then Sasha would never have talked to me again. Though I think she was quite wrong to do what she did. And so was Frieda.’

‘Are you on good terms with Sasha now?’ asked Karlsson, awkwardly.

Frank stared at him, through him, at something else. ‘Good terms?’ he said eventually. ‘Doesn’t that sound businesslike? How did we get to such a pass? To be on good terms with the woman I loved and who is the mother of my son. I couldn’t believe my luck when I met Sasha.’ He sounded dreamy and spoke as if he were really talking to himself. ‘She’s so beautiful, and I thought I could rescue her. She’s someone you feel needs rescuing, isn’t she? Sometimes, being with her, I’ve felt like I’ve been in a nightmare. It’s like I’ve been watching a very slow accident taking place and I can’t do anything to stop it. I feel like I tried everything and none of it worked.’

They walked out onto the pavement together. Frank held out his hand and Karlsson shook it.

‘So what’s your plan now?’ Frank asked.

‘I don’t know. Waiting. Doing what I can to help.’

‘And what’s Frieda’s plan, do you think?’

Karlsson made a gesture of helplessness. ‘Do you know? In all the years I’ve known Frieda, I’ve never known what she was going to do. And after she’s done it, I often don’t understand that either. She broke into the Warehouse. That’s the clinic she’s connected to.’

‘What for?’

‘I don’t know. It was something to do with Sandy, but I don’t know what.’

Frank wrinkled his brow. ‘Breaking and entering,’ he said. ‘And child endangerment. It’s not going to look good in court.’

Karlsson turned to go. ‘I don’t think it’ll ever get to court,’ he said. ‘Something will happen.’

‘What kind of thing?’

‘Aren’t you breaking the barrister’s first rule?’

Frank looked puzzled. ‘And what’s that?’

‘Never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to. Thanks for the drink, Frank.’

He was very tired now, his eyes sore, but he knew he was far from sleep. He didn’t want to go back to his empty flat to lie awake and wonder where Frieda could be and how he could find her. He thought of what Sasha had said and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked away from the pub towards his car; he Googled Bridget Bellucci, and in less than a minute had her email address. He wrote a message, explaining he was a friend of Frieda’s and would be grateful for the opportunity to talk to her and Al, as soon as possible and in strict confidence. Almost as soon as he’d sent it a reply pinged onto his screen. ‘Why not now?’ it said, and included an address.