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‘Are they – are they OK?’ she said.

The door opened and a woman looked in. She nodded at the detective.

‘Well,’ DI Wynne said, and smiled. ‘You can find out for yourself. They’re here.’

Martin

They had been in this same place at the beginning.

In these corridors, in these rooms, meeting police and lawyers and journalists, their world collapsing around them.

It was here it had become clear they had lost Maggie. And now they were back.

She was back.

He had accepted long ago it would never happen. At first he had believed she would be found, then he had hoped she might be found, then he feared she wouldn’t be found, and finally he had accepted she was gone forever.

A PC, a man in his twenties, led them to a door.

‘This is the room,’ he said. ‘And I don’t know if this is the right word, but congratulations.’

Martin held Sandra’s hand in his left hand and James’s in his right.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

The PC opened the door.

She was sitting on a brown couch. Her feet were bare and she was wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and a black coat. She was thin, and very pale.

She was holding a little boy. He looked up at the noise, his eyes fearful.

She looked up.

Those blue eyes. They hadn’t changed. The light was still there.

She smiled, then her lips started to quiver and tears came to her eyes and she started to get to her feet and he ran across the room and they were hugging, all of them, Sandra, James, him and Maggie, the little boy, back together, a family again after so, so long.

‘Fruitcake,’ he said. ‘My little Fruitcake. I love you. I missed you.’

Maggie heaved with sobs. He held her to him again. He inhaled deeply. Despite what she’d been through, despite where she’d been, she smelled exactly as he remembered. He inhaled again.

He felt something kick him in the stomach. The boy started to cry.

‘Mummy,’ he said. ‘I want you, Mummy.’

Martin stepped back and looked at him. He kissed Maggie again.

‘Who’s this?’ he said.

‘This is Max,’ Maggie said. ‘My son.’

Sandra wiped tears from her eyes.

‘Hello, Max,’ she said. She put a hand on the back of his head. ‘He’s beautiful. He looks just like James did at that age.’

Max shrank away from her touch.

‘He’s not used to all these people,’ Maggie said. ‘He doesn’t know you’re his grandparents.’ She looked at James. ‘Or his uncle.’