26
I watch the police car disappear up the road, the exhaust fumes creating a dirty cloud behind it in the cold winter air. As the fume cloud quickly disappears, I put on my shoes, step outside and lock the front door behind me.
I ring my next-door-neighbour’s doorbell, wait a few seconds, then hammer my fist on the door. It’s no use. They’re clearly not in.
I jog across the road, looking both ways as I do so, and knock on the door of the house directly opposite mine. An old couple lives here. I don’t know their names, but I know it might take them a little longer to get to the door. As it happens, they’re there in seconds, no doubt having been watching the police car outside my house and ruminating on how the neighbourhood’s gone to s**t.
‘Hi. I’m Alice, I live over the road,’ I say,
