“Do you think it was those brothers?” Kim asked.

“The Broadheads?” I replied.

“Maybe Steve owed them some money, too.”

“Well, by the looks of it, he won’t be paying them back anytime soon.”

“I didn’t like Steve, but he didn’t deserve that,” Kim uttered.

My phone vibrated and beeped in my pocket, and Kim looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to look at it. I took it out, and it was a text message from James.

Your quest is plagued with unfortunate timing.

Who was responsible?

You must seek out the brothers. They will know where to go next.

I looked up from my phone, and Kim seemed very curious as to who I was texting. Maybe it was a small facial expression or the way I’d gazed at my phone, but I could tell that she knew something strange was going on. I wasn’t ready to involve her in that part just yet, so keeping her in the dark about James for the time being was the best thing I could do.

“Anything important?” Kim asked.

“No. Just a friend,” I responded.

“Where do we go from here?”

“We need to track these brothers down.”

“Are you serious? They are dangerous. What if they did this?”

“I need to find out what they know.”

“But is it worth your life?”

“I don’t have a life anymore.”

I could see Yvonne threading her way through the crowd towards us, unbelievably contributing to the smog with the usual half-burned cigarette permanently lodged in her hand. She came over and stood in between us, and Kim overtly backed away to avoid the second-hand smoke.

“What happened?” Yvonne asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. But apparently, Steve was in the house when it went up,” I replied.

“Poor Steve,” Yvonne whispered.

“You were slagging him off an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but no one deserves to die like that.”

“Can we get out of here?” Kim asked, “This smoke can’t be good for us.”

“Come back to mine. We can have a drink,” Yvonne suggested.

We all got in the car, and Kim drove us out of the smog through Filey town centre in the direction of Yvonne’s house. James was right. I needed to track these brothers down, as they were the only remaining lead. I knew they didn’t physically kill Harry and had the gut feeling that someone would have seen something up on Filey Brigg. I had convinced myself that the pressure that the two brothers were putting on him might have contributed to his death, in some way or another. Kim was right; they were dangerous, and I had no idea how to locate them. As soon as we got inside, Yvonne produced yet another bottle of wine, which Kim and I both refused. It didn’t put her off, though; she filled her glass and started drinking greedily.

“So, how do we find these brothers?” Kim asked.

I shot Kim a look to tell her to shut up, but Yvonne had already clocked onto it.

“What brothers?” Yvonne asked bemusedly.

“The Broadhead brothers,” I explained, “Steve introduced Harry to them, and Harry borrowed some money from them.”

“Do you think they were responsible for the fire?” Yvonne asked.

“Maybe. It would definitely make sense if Steve had borrowed money from them in the past,” I explained.

“Well, let’s go and see them,” Yvonne shrugged.

“No, Kim and I have got this. You don’t need to be involved, Yvonne. We don’t even know how to contact them.”

“John will. He’s from Leeds, and everyone knows the Broadheads up there.”

It came to confirm what I had suspected for years. I’d always thought John was at least a bit dodgy. I’d barely spoken to John, and he had little interest in getting to know me. That feeling was reciprocated. Harry didn’t think much of him either because Yvonne shacked up with him very quickly after Harry’s dad passed. John was a man of few words, which suited Yvonne down to the ground, largely because she was the exact opposite of him. He was a typical Yorkshire bloke with fading tattoos up and down his arms. Rough around the edges would have been putting it politely. Yet, if he could lead us to the Broadheads, then what other option would we have?

“Stay the night,” Yvonne started, “I’ll speak to John, and we can head up there in the morning.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” I said.

“Me either,” Kim added.

“You don’t have to come, Kim. I don’t even know why you are here, to be honest,” Yvonne said plainly.

“I’m just trying to help,” Kim mumbled.

“We can take this from here, right, Amelia?” Yvonne asked.

“She could have phrased it a bit more politely, but I do agree, Kim. There is no use in putting our lives in danger,” I said.

“Let’s just get some sleep. John can take us in the morning,” Yvonne suggested.

“I’ll be going, then,” Kim said abruptly.

“Kim, don’t be like that. Thank you for your help. I promise I’ll let you know of any developments,” I sympathised.

Kim gave me an awkward hug and left through the kitchen door. Yvonne was still chugging her glass of wine. Part of me still wanted to just drive back to Manchester and put all this behind me, even more so now that Yvonne and John were involved. The resolve I felt in finding the truth only an hour earlier was waning already. But I still needed to know what happened to Harry that night and what he was up to behind my back in the weeks prior. I wouldn’t be able to rest until I got to the truth, and deep down, I knew that. It would be dangerous, and if these men no qualms about doing that to Steve’s house, they were capable of anything. I just had to be careful and trust my instincts.

Much to my irritation, the only spare bedroom with an actual bed was Harry’s old room. Yvonne had almost turned it into a mausoleum, not after his death, but when he left home. Not a single item in there had been touched since he flew the nest, save the odd occasion that Harry had come to stay. Initially, it was almost unbearable being in there, but after a few minutes, I grew to like it. I felt closer to Harry, and I could almost smell traces of his aftershave that had been absorbed by the sheets. The walls were filled with posters and a large corkboard decorated with pinned pictures from his youth. My attention is drawn to one photo; it was only a few weeks after we’d met. We’d driven up to the lake district for the weekend, we went for a walk, and Harry’s wellington boots had got stuck in the mud. I’d never laughed so hard in my life; I would do anything to go back there and be stuck in the mud with him. The memory is powerful enough to make me visibly smile, perhaps for the first time since he had gone. It was nice to remember Harry for the man he was.

I didn’t expect to get any rest that night, but it turned out to be the best night’s sleep I had in a while. Just enough of Harry was left in that room to be of some comfort to me. I opened the curtains and saw the view over Filey. I felt guilty for badmouthing it so much in the past, and I could see why Harry had held it in such high esteem. The sun was rising over the hills, the sea breeze delicately rattling the window. I pulled out my phone and decided to send James a text message.