At last, the countryside flattens. Fenland skies stretch out above me, swathes of blue and grey arching across a landscape of soulless fields and ruler-straight roads. As I push further northwards, the earth slowly comes to life again with hills and hollows, the roads lined now by pine trees rather than ditches. And after what seems like an age, the squat church of Limmingham comes into view, its tower like a chunky hand acknowledging my arrival. The sat nav continues to dish out instructions, but I'm no longer listening. From here, I know the way. Navigating the dip into town, I take a left along the sea front and head for the housing estate where I grew up.
When I finally park in front of Mum and Dad's home, I rest my head on the steering wheel and try to compose myself. It's a good few minutes before I get out of the car and look down the road, catching sight of the nondescript house where Dan spent the first ten years of his life. There's a sudden chill in my blood. I shrug it off quickly and make for my parents' back door.
I find no one in the kitchen and no one in the living room. They're both out in the garden, fussing over the rockery. Stepping through the open French windows, I call to them.
'Mum! Dad!'
The look up in unison.
'Maya,' Mum calls back, dropping a trowel. 'What a nice surprise. Have you brought Daniel with you?'
'No. He's at work.'
'We're so glad you're back together.' She plants a kiss on my forehead. 'Sara told us. We felt awful about what happened. Was he alright? Tell me he was alright.'
'Don't worry about it,' I reassure her. 'You didn't do anything wrong. And he's fine.'
'Come here!' Dad leans his spade against the fence. 'Come and give us a kiss.'
I step out over the lawn, into his arms.
'It's been piddling down all morning.' Releasing me, he squints up at the sky. At just the right moment, a crack in the clouds lets through a thin shaft of sunlight. 'But you've brought the weather with you.'
As quickly as it arrived, the sun disappears.
'How did you get here?' Mum demands.
'I drove.'
She stares at me as if I'm mad.
'And I can't stay long,' I add.
'Oh, why not?'
'I've got to go somewhere.'
'But you've got time for a cup of tea?'
'No, Mum. I'm sorry.'
'Next time you come, you can stay longer … and you can bring Daniel with you. We'd love to see him again, wouldn't we, Roger?'
'Oh yes.'
'I mean, we don't mind about all that stuff. He's a lovely lad.'
'I'm not sure.'
'What do you mean you're not sure?' Her eyes widen.
'I don't know if he wants to come back.'
She stares at me again, and suddenly I'm wondering how much she actually knows.
'I've been thinking about that family,' she muses. 'You never saw much of them. I mean the girls used to come out and play in the street, but not Daniel.' She glances at me, her eyes awkward. 'His mum kept herself to herself. And I never liked his dad.'
'Step-dad,' I correct her.
She barely seems to register my words. 'He was always down the pub, wasn't he, Roger?'
Dad nods. 'One of those nasty types. He'd fight you over a bag of crisps. No one liked him. Remember that time he got beaten up?'
'Oooh yes.' Mum shakes her head. 'And then he dropped dead not long after.'
'Dead?' The word flies out of my mouth and I stare at my mum, amazed by her little afterthought. 'When did he die?'
'A long time ago. You were about eleven or twelve. Died in his sleep.' She points a finger at her head. 'A brain whatsit.'
'Haemorrhage,' Dad mutters.
I blink and blink again, dislodging a vague recollection of it all. I remember a death on the road, and that's about it. I suppose I was too caught up in my own little world to pay much attention to what went on around me.
'You were at school when they took him away,' Mum goes on. 'And then they moved out, her and the two girls. They didn't go far though. Other side of town.'
I don't want to hear any more.
'Why don't you two come down to London?' I suggest quickly. 'We'll put you up in a nice hotel.'
'A nice hotel!' She claps her hands together. 'Hear that, Roger? We haven't been to London since we went to see Cats. When was that?'
'Oh, I don't know.' Dad rolls his eyes. 'It was my first and last musical, Maya. Singing cats. I can't bloody well stand cats, and she drags me to see that. We get enough of the bloody things in the garden.'
Mum fires off a quick scowl in Dad's direction.
'So, why are you here?' she demands.
'I'm meeting an old friend.' God, I wish I'd come up with a decent back story. 'And I don't want Dan to know about it,' I add quickly.
Mum's gawping at me now, as if I'm totally deluded. I never really had any friends until art college, and she knows that.
'Oh God, Maya, it's not a man, is it?' she gasps. 'You're not turning into a trollop?'
'Of course it's not a man. I'm … ' I trail off into silence, desperately fumbling through my brain for something half-way decent. Out of nowhere, an idea shuffles into view and seeing as it's all I've got, I'll just have to go with it. 'She's an artist. I'm fixing up a surprise for Dan's birthday and I don't want him to know. It's a portrait … of me. And I need you to do me a favour. If he ever asks, tell him I've been here all afternoon.'
And now, my mother looks positively affronted.
'You've just got to trust me on this one,' I insist. 'I've got my first sitting in ten minutes.'
She folds her arms and pouts. Okay, so maybe I should make a quick concession.
'I'll come back for a cup of tea afterwards. How about that?'
At last, her face breaks into a smile.
'Don't you forget,' she warns me.
'Of course not.'
With another kiss, I make a hasty exit.
Just in case Mr Foster can track my movements in the Jag, I decide to leave the car where it is and walk. After all, Dan's sister didn't move far away from the original family home. In fact, she's only three streets away and less than five minutes later, I'm standing on her road, feeling like I'm about to throw up. I have no idea what I'm playing at, meddling in things that are none of my business, but I'm incapable of stopping. Drawn on by a need to fill in those missing pieces of the puzzle, I know I'm going to see it through. For a few brief seconds, sunlight appears again, scudding its way across the road and guiding me towards my target: a modern house, much like the one I grew up in, complete with a neat front lawn and a tarmac drive. I'm in a daze, conscious that my legs are moving again and before I know it, I'm right in front of the door, watching helplessly as my hand reaches up to press the bell.
'Shit!' my brain cries out. 'You've done it now!'
As the seconds draw themselves out, I swallow hard, realising that my mouth has dried up. I glance along the road, seriously considering making a run for it, but it's already too late. Before I can act, the door swings open, revealing a flustered-looking woman.
'Hello?' Drying her hands on a tea towel, she tilts her head to one side. 'Can I help you?'
'I … '
Struggling to find the right words, I take her in. Maybe in her mid-thirties and about my height, she's dressed in a pair of jeans and a strappy T-shirt. And then I notice her eyes: bright blue, just like Dan's. But that's where the similarity ends. Her hair is darker than his, a deep brown. And her features aren't quite the same. She has thinner lips, a slightly more oval shape to the face. There are traces of the man I love, but differences too.
'Can I help you?' she repeats.
'I'm … I'm sorry.' I falter.
'For what?'
'For just turning up like this … out of the blue.'
'Are you selling something?'
'No.' I manage to conjure up a smile. 'No, no. I'm … ' I swallow again before I land her with the news. 'I'm Dan's girlfriend.'
Her forehead dips. Her lips part. Somewhere behind her, I catch a movement. A voice calls out.
'Mummy! Cameron did a wee in my bucket!'
'I'll be there in a minute. Go and play.' She waves a hand. 'Dan's girlfriend?' she asks. And then, as if she needs absolute confirmation: 'My brother's girlfriend?'
'Yes.'
I watch the shadows flit through her eyes: first shock, then disbelief. Understanding that I need to explain myself a little, I reach inside my handbag, my fingers shaking, and grapple for the pieces of card.
'I found these.' I thrust a handful at her. She looks down at them. 'I found these in the bin … your birthday card. It had your address on it and I wanted to meet you and … ' Oh God, I'm gabbling now. She really must think I'm a lunatic, but I've started so I might as well finish. 'I thought I could get him to meet you.'
Her mouth opens further. She leans out of the door, taking a quick look up and down the road, a flicker of excitement in her eyes, a touch of nerves. And suddenly I realise what she's doing: she's searching for him.
'He's not here,' I explain. 'He doesn't know.'
My admission plants a frown back on her face.
'You've done this in secret?'
'Yes.' Shoving the pieces of card into the handbag, I realise that I need to introduce myself properly. 'I'm Maya. Maya Scotton.'
She raises a hand as if she's about to point at me, and then seems to think better of it.