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that included a riotous night out in Brixton and a hungover day at the Lambeth Country Show, the only low point being when she got whiplash on the waltzer. After finishing her PGCE, Becky had managed to get a job in the same part of London. Now she lived in Denmark Hill while Amy was in East Dulwich, off Lordship Lane. Amy couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
    As she waited at the traffic lights on Herne Hill, her mind hopped frantically from the subject of Becky’s whereabouts – the word ‘disappearance’ kept trying to creep in but she was holding it at bay for now – to her To Do list. Site updates, customer emails, talking to a supplier, some pay-per-click ads, an interview with a local magazine …
    Even on a normal day it would have been enough to send her spiralling into a mild panic, and she couldn’t help but curse Becky for putting her through this.
If you’re happily browsing duty free at this moment while I’m chasing around London looking for you …
She didn’t finish the thought. Because, really, that’s what she hoped Becky was doing. What was the alternative?
    A white Audi cut her up as the lights changed and she raised her middle finger.
Dickhead.
She had a theory about people who drove expensive white cars. This theory didn’t stretch much further than thinking they were all dickheads, but they proved her hypothesis again and again.
    She rode past the row of shops where, last year, somebody had beaten a woman half to death for no reason. To the right lay the beautiful park with views towards central London, the Gherkin and the Shard glinting in the sunshine. But she didn’t give any of that a thought today. She concentrated on the road ahead.
    Katherine’s cottage was easy to find. Amy parked the bike outside and unzipped her leather jacket, expecting to see steam coming off her like a baked potato removed from a microwave.
    Katherine opened the door and stepped forward to give Amy a kiss.
    ‘Would you like a cold drink?’ she asked, wiping her cheek. ‘I was sitting out in the garden. Come through.’
    Amy followed her through the cottage, surprised by how messy it was: clothes spilling out of an open hall cupboard, dishes stacked in the sink, a layer of grime on every surface.
    She stood on the small, square lawn and waited while Katherine searched for a clean glass. A Kindle lay face down on a metal table beside a packet of cigarettes. Katherine came out and made a big show of dragging a chair, filthy with cobwebs, out of the shed.
    Amy sat down. ‘How are you?’
    Katherine did not look great. Her auburn hair hung in greasy clumps and she was considerably thinner than Amy remembered from their previous meeting. She seemed nervous, picking up the pack of cigarettes and lighting one, taking a hungry drag. Amy didn’t remember her being a smoker either, though it was a detail she could easily have missed.
    ‘Yeah, I’m OK,’ Katherine said. ‘So happy school’s out at last. By June every year, I think if I have to mark one more piece of shitty Art homework I’m going to go berserk.’ She smiled with one corner of her mouth.
    ‘How’s the jewellery-making going? I still want you to write that article, if you get time.’
    ‘Oh. I haven’t made any new pieces for months. I’ve been too busy.’
    ‘That’s a shame. How’s your man? Clive, isn’t it? Is he here?’
    Katherine’s expression didn’t change. ‘We broke up.’
    ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
    ‘Don’t be. He was a nightmare.’
    If she’d known this woman better, Amy would have asked more, but thought it was best to move the conversation on. Especially as Katherine was acting like a junkie who couldn’t wait to get her next fix.
    ‘This was the email I got from Becky.’
    Amy handed Katherine her phone and watched her read it, her brow furrowing.
    ‘That’s nuts,’ Katherine said.
    ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so. She never said anything to you about going away?’
    ‘No. Definitely