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"Ah," Effie said. "He's not here."

The boy stared at her. "What are you doing in his house?"

"Well, I'm a friend of his."

"That's his dressing gown."

Effie shrugged. "I'm borrowing it."

"Did he say you could?"

"Didn't say I couldn't."

"It's too big for you. Who are you?"

"I told you. You should listen."

"No, you didn't. Where's Dad? Where's Fraser?"

"Honey." Martin's voice. He was padding down the stairs, still in his towel, a second now draped round his neck to cover his scar. The hair on his shins glistened. The boy turned to look at him, his eyes shrinking. Martin said to Effie, "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Sure," Effie said, happy to play along. "This young man is …"

"Jordan," Jordan said.

"Jordan," Effie said. "And Jordan, this is my husband … Clive."

Martin looked at her. Held out his hand to Jordan.

Jordan took it. The kid's grip looked slack.

Martin bent down a little, looked into the boy's eyes. "And how do you know Fraser?" he said. "How come you have a key?"

Oh, Martin was good.

"He's my brother," Jordan said. "Where is he?"

"He's away on business." Martin glanced at Effie. "We're looking after the house for him."

Jordan nodded, seemed to think that was okay. "Have you seen Dad?" Then he added, "I was supposed to meet him here."

The centre of Effie's forehead went cold.

Martin held both the boy's wrists. "There's no one here but us."

"He must be coming later."

"Maybe."

"When's Fraser coming back?"

Martin looked at Effie, but Effie was having trouble breathing. Jordan was supposed to meet his dad here?

"Well," Martin said. "Your brother had to go away in a hurry. We're not sure when he'll be home."

"I'm going to phone him." Jordan put his hand in his pocket.

Effie found her voice. "I don't think so," she said.

Martin said, "It's okay."

"It is?" Effie asked him.

"If Jordan wants to talk to his brother, that's fine."

Jordan dug out his phone and dialled. A faint pop tune started playing off to the right.

"That's Fraser's ringtone," Jordan said. He walked past them, into the sitting room, heading towards the sound.

They followed him.

Fraser's phone was on the coffee table where Effie had left it after she'd stripped the body. Jordan picked up the phone and cut the call. Turned to face them. "Why didn't he take his phone?"

"Had to leave in a hurry," Effie said. "We told you."

"Why?"

"An important deal."

"A deal?"

"In London."

"What kind of deal? He doesn't do deals."

"A grown-up kind of deal," Martin said. "That we can't tell you about, Jordan. I'm sorry."

"You mean like drugs?" Jordan said. "Oh." He laid his brother's phone back on the table, returned his own to his pocket. "You haven't seen my dad, then?"

Martin shook his head. Effie shook hers too.

"I'll wait," Jordan said. "Why do you have that bath thing there?"

Effie looked in the direction of Jordan's gaze. He was staring through the open door at the tub in the hallway next to his bike. "Throwing it out," she told him.

"What's in those bags?"

She swallowed. "Odds and ends."

"And what are those?"

Now he was staring at the two bloodstained body-shaped parcels rolled up against the wall. "Just some rubbish," she said.

"What kind of rubbish?"

"Just rubbish."

"Doesn't look like rubbish. I've never heard of anybody wrapping up rubbish in sheets."

"It's special rubbish," Martin said. "Needs to be recycled. In sheets."

"They're bleeding."

"Nah," Effie said. "That's just sauce. Tomato sauce. Cranberry juice. That kind of stuff."

The kid stared at her. "That's not special rubbish, then."

"The rest of it is," Martin said. "The solid part. Not the liquid part."

Jordan turned away, scanned the sitting room and said, "I've never seen you before."

"That's because we're not from around here."

"Where are you from?"

"England."

"I have cousins in England."

"I'm sure you do."

"You don't sound like them."

"It's a big place, Jordan. People sound different. Depends which part of the country you come from."

"You sound like me."

"Well,"