‘I’m a stranger.’
‘I know. But you needed help. It’s a good thing to help people. That’s what I think, anyway.’
She smiled at him and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes it is a good thing. Perhaps your next-door neighbour has a phone?’
‘They don’t talk to us. My dad fell out with them when they said I was an idiot. I got the flats mixed up when we first moved here, and I broke my key in their lock when I tried to get in.’
No other choice, Hannah thought. She took a deep breath, hauled herself to her feet. Crashed back onto the sofa again when her balance went out of kilter and nausea hit her.
‘Oh, God,’ she moaned. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
This alarmed Daniel. ‘Do you need a bucket? We’ve got a bucket. A black plastic one from B&Q. Should I get it for you?’
Hannah waved a hand. ‘No. I’ll be okay. I just need to sit here for a while. Could I have some water?’
‘Yes. Of course. We have lots of that.’
Daniel walked over to the kitchen area, filled a glass with tap water, then brought it back.
‘Thank you. That helps. Where are your parents, Daniel?’
‘They should be home soon. My mum went shopping, but then she’s meeting my dad at work and he’s bringing her home. We’re having pizza tonight. Would you like to stay for tea?’
‘No. I’d better not. Thank you for the offer, though.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Impeccable manners, she thought. The parents have brought him up well.
‘What’s your name?’ Daniel asked.
‘It’s Hannah.’
‘Hannah. That’s a nice name.’
‘Thank you. I like Daniel, too.’
‘Thank you. And what do you do, Hannah?’
‘I work for the police. I’m a detective.’
Daniel’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, wow! A detective? Like Columbo?’
‘Well, I like to think I’m a bit better dressed than that. Maybe more like Inspector Morse.’
‘He’s good too. He’s very clever. Do you always have to be clever to be a detective?’
‘Well, it helps.’
‘I couldn’t be a detective. I’m a sandwich short of a picnic.’
Hannah spluttered while sipping her water. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Laurence. At the day centre. He’s funny.’
‘Well, you can tell Laurence that I think you’d make an excellent police officer. You’re brave and you’re strong and you do what’s right.’
Daniel drew himself up to his full height. Which was considerable.
‘Do you stop criminals?’ he asked.
‘I try to.’
‘Adam-9 stops criminals. Do you know Adam-9?’
Something pinged in Hannah’s chest. Adam-9. The comics. The television programmes. Tilly had loved them. Hannah was never sure why, but it was one of the few things that had really been capable of holding her daughter’s attention, and was therefore in her armoury of rewards for good behaviour.
And then it came back to her. Tilly. In the lift earlier.
Why?
What had she been doing there? And why then? Had she appeared as a warning, to let her mother know that she was about to be attacked?
Stop that, Hannah told herself. Tilly was never there. It was a figment of your imagination.
And yet she had seemed so real, so solid. Not a vague, fuzzy image built from corruptible memory, but there in every wonderful tiny detail, living and breathing and staring deep into her mother’s eyes.
Hannah cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. What was that?’
