‘Talk to him before making any judgements,’ he said.

Of course she was going to, but she was also scared about what he might tell her. ‘I knew he shouldn’t have gone.’

David frowned. ‘We can’t keep him locked up.’

‘Where did we go wrong?’ she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. ‘Was it my fault? Did I spend too much time focusing on Bonnie?’ She had loved Danny the moment he’d come into the world but had felt guilty her oldest child was draining her attention. And Danny had been so placid.

‘Of course it isn’t your fault,’ David said, but his voice was flat. She felt him pull away and she looked up at him. Did he think it was?

‘What is it?’ she said. ‘You do think I spend too much time on her.’ Her heart hammered a rapid beat and she already knew she didn’t want to hear his answer. She’d always feared he might one day open up, and if he did they might never come back from it. In the end she would be right, but that day Maria was relieved when David shook his head and told her there was nothing. Rubbing her arm, he motioned for her to talk to their son.

Maria climbed the stairs and stopped outside Danny’s door. She tapped on it quietly, easing it open. His body was a mound in the bed, his duvet pulled over him. She couldn’t see his head but she could hear his breaths coming short and fast.

Easing herself on to the end of his bed, Maria reached out and touched his leg. He flinched but the rest of him didn’t move. ‘Danny,’ she whispered. There was no reply. ‘You can tell me anything.’

She waited a moment and then rubbed his shin before getting up to leave, when from under the cover she could just make out his voice. ‘It wasn’t how it seems.’

Maria knew in that moment whatever her son had done, she would do what was needed to put it right. She would do the same for any of her children.

PRESENT

Chapter Twelve

When I wake the next morning my brow is dripping wet, my pyjama top clinging to my skin in patches of damp. My sleep has been laced with dreams that entwined and made no sense and it takes me a moment to remember where I am and only a fraction longer for the news of Jill to hit me again.

Jill’s name was the first on the list I’d sent to PC Walton. I wonder if he already knew she’d died and had crossed her off as soon as he read my email. Then scanned the remaining four names, prodding his finger against the one of most interest.