Page 87 of The World Outside My Window

‘And you’re sure it’s him, are you?’

Dawn glances at the photo again. ‘As sure as I can be, yeah. It definitely looks like him.’

Debbie folds the photo up. ‘Thank you so much. That’s really helpful.’

‘No worries.’ Dawn heads back towards the kitchen and Debbie turns back to the table excitedly. ‘Oh my God!’ she says, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘We’re getting somewhere!’

Laura takes a sip of her tea. Her hands are shaking. ‘But what if it is him? Do we have to come back every morning and wait for him to come in?’

Debbie shakes her head impatiently. ‘No, we’re going to go now.’

‘Now?’ Ben has a piece of cake on a fork halfway to his mouth and stops.

‘Yep.’ Debbie grabs her coat. ‘We’re going to finish this—’ she indicates the table ‘—then we’re going to get back out there.’

Ben and Laura glance towards the window again. Rain is still pattering gently against the glass, but it’s softer now, easing. A shaft of orange light spreads across the shiny pavement, a sign that the late evening sun is trying to beat a path through the gloom.

‘See, even the weather wants us to get back out there,’ Debbie says, tipping her head back and draining her mug.

Laura’s not so sure this is a good idea. Searching for Jim during the day has been fine. She can cope with a bustling high street in the daytime better than she thought she’d be able to. But quiet side streets in the dark? She’s transported instantly back to that night in the alleyway by her former home; the glinting knife, the blank, grey-eyed stare through the balaclava.

‘I’m not sure I can do it,’ she says. Debbie stops her plate clearing and looks at her.

‘What’s wrong, Lau?’ she says, her face pulled into a frown.

‘I’m not sure I can be outside in the dark.’

‘Oh, darling,’ Debbie says, rubbing her arm. ‘I know this is going to be hard. But me and Ben will be there to protect you, won’t we, Ben?’

Ben nods. ‘Absolutely. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.’

Laura knows this, and yet it still feels like an impossible ask. She swallows, gathers her courage.

‘Okay. Let’s do this.’ She downs her drink. ‘But let’s do it now before I lose my nerve.’

* * *

The sky is kettle-grey, and although the rain has stopped, a damp mist still hangs in the air. Laura shivers, and tries not to let her eyes wander down every alleyway, into every dark corner. She stops, suddenly, in the middle of the pavement, halted by a scurrying sound and a crash of dustbins falling over. A fox dashes across the pavement in front of her and she lets out a breath, her heart racing.

It's not until she starts walking again that she realises she’s holding Debbie’s hand on one side and Ben’s on the other. She snatches her hand away and instantly misses the warmth of his grip.

‘Do you think it’s time we called it a day?’

‘I think you’re probably right,’ Ben says. ‘I can’t see a bloody thing.’

Debbie sighs. ‘Yeah, I think so too.’ She glances up at the illuminated windows of the Edwardian houses. ‘Shame though. I really felt like something was about to happen.’

The three of them trudge towards the car park, their footsteps tapping rhythmically, shoes splashing through the occasional puddle. The orange glow of the street lights highlights the crowns of their heads every few steps as though they’re stepping into the spotlight on stage, and then back into darkness again, light, dark, light, dark. Laura keeps her eyes down, not wanting to think too much about where she is. But she knows that later, back at home, she’ll feel proud of herself for the progress she’s made today in overcoming her fear.

They turn a corner and the street is busy again, people plunging into brightly lit shops or emerging with hands full of carrier bags, the world continuing as before. She’s hardly had time to form these thoughts when Debbie suddenly stops dead, and her hand tightens round Laura’s. Laura stops, and then Ben does too. Debbie’s eyes are wide and Laura follows her gaze to see what’s made her stop in her tracks. But there’s no one there.

‘What?’ she says. ‘What happened?’

‘It’s him,’ Debbie hisses, through clenched teeth. She yanks her hand out of Laura’s and points towards the Tube station. ‘Jim.’

Heart thudding, Laura peers through the gloom towards the open mouth of the station, where there are a few people milling around, and a couple walk inside hand in hand. But she can’t see any men alone, and definitely not a man who looks anything like Jim.

‘Where?’

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