When Lennie came home from school, she sat with her on the sofa and told her. It was worse than telling her Corinna had died. At least then the emotion had been simple. Pure. How did you explain what she’d done to someone of thirteen? Corinna, whom she’d loved and looked up to.

But she had to. It was going to come out, it would be all over the Post and the Mail, Midlands Today. It would probably make the national papers. At least if she told her, she would have some control over the narrative. She could give Lennie a gentler version of the story before she heard the ones that would be far, far worse.

She told her everything, step by step, from Becca to Samir. She was frank, she didn’t try to minimize it, but she told Len about Corinna’s childhood in the hope that one day, when it settled, she might find a way not to condemn her entirely even if she, Robin, failed. When she went to the kitchen afterwards to get them all a cup of tea, Christine had nodded, Well done.

After dinner, she washed up then told her mother she was going to ring Maggie. She saw trepidation flicker across her face.

‘Really?’ Christine said. ‘Why don’t you wait?’

‘No. I need to tell her I’m sorry.’

It was cool in the conservatory, beyond reach of the central heating. She dialled Maggie’s number and it rang and rang. She’d started to think she wasn’t going to answer – she was probably standing next to it, waiting for it to stop – when suddenly she did.

‘Robin?’

Well?

‘Maggie, I’m calling to apologize. I shouldn’t have done it – gone off and found Becca like that. Or Tarryn. I’m sorry.’ Or emailed Nuttall. Or cut corners on the benefits work to go off-piste. But one step at a time.

‘Nuttall called me this afternoon,’ Maggie said. ‘He told me about the girl you spoke to this morning. What she told you.’

‘Tarryn said she wouldn’t speak to police. She wasn’t even sure she’d speak to me so when she rang, I went for it in case—’

‘I don’t want to talk about the methodology,’ Maggie said, dry, ‘but well done.’

Robin was taken aback. Really? she almost said. ‘Have you heard of him?’ she said instead. ‘Staverton?’

‘I had a girl about eighteen months ago who’d been involved with him. He’s not without his charms, apparently, in the beginning, but then she wanted out, big time. She wouldn’t talk to police, either, but luckily, her parents found me.’

‘Have there been any developments? I’ve been at home all afternoon, I …’ It dawned on her that of course she’d been at home – where else did she have to go?

‘Not that I’ve heard. If I do hear anything, I’ll let you know.’