“That who you were looking for over there? Can’t say I’ve seen him that recently, but yeah, I’ve seen him about. Tattoos all swirly like, but with lots of edges. Nasty business he is. Largin’ himself up, throwin’ it around like God Almighty. Violent. Got thrown out of the Gatehouse a few times. You got business with him?”

“Not as such. He was at the Gatehouse? He’s on the streets? Where does he hang out?”

“Dunno. I’ve seen him a few times around the canals down near Hythe Bridge Street. Doesn’t keep regular with any company I know. Independent like.”

“Name?”

“Don’t know a name. Best left well alone in my opinion. Wide berth, Danny, wide berth. Listen, if it’s some horse you want-”

“Nah, see you around, Phil. Cheers.”

“Cheers, then. Be well.”

Daniel turned and joined the crowd. A glance up at the clock tower showed the time to be twenty to five. The Gatehouse would be open now. He stroked his beard and turned his feet in that direction.

It was the busiest time of the day. People crisscrossed in front of him, ducking into shops, doing after-work errands before going back to their homes and dinners with their loved ones. Groups of tourists-students on school trips, all of them with matching yellow backpacks-stood in clusters outside the fast food restaurants, yelling at and flirting with each other. And for the second time that day Daniel caught a glimpse from within the swarm of faces of someone he recognised.

He stopped in his tracks. “It can’t be . . .”

He turned and looked at the sea of people. She wasn’t there anymore; the tide had closed. Lurching forward, he ducked into Ship Street, a long, narrow, fairly empty side road. There were two people at the far end and a solitary one walking away from him.

This person was young-his age-female, slender, with black hair that was tied up loosely-and she carried a bag that looked to be bulging with books. A student, then. One hand dangled at her side and he could see that it was a light creamy brown.