Paula jotted down mobile numbers for mother and son then put her pen down. ‘Have you got a picture of your mum?’

Torin fiddled with his phone, then turned it to face her. Paula recognised Bev from the picture, which wasn’t always a given with smartphone snaps. It was a head shot, apparently taken on a sunny beach. Thick blonde hair, mid-blue eyes, oval face with regular features. Pretty but not drop-dead gorgeous, a face animated by a cheery smile complete with laughter lines. Seeing the picture reminded Paula that she’d found Bev attractive. Not that she’d exactly lusted after their dinner host. More of a private acknowledgement that Bev was her type. In the same way that Carol Jordan was. A particular configuration of features and colouring that always caught her attention. Not, interestingly, a match for Dr Elinor Blessing. Paula knew her partner was beautiful; her heart always rose at the sight of her fine black hair with its threads of silver, and the laughter in her grey eyes. But it hadn’t been Elinor’s looks that had tweaked Paula’s attention when they first met. It had been her kindness, which trumped blonde every time. So yes, there had been a moment when she’d appreciated Bev’s appeal. And if she’d noticed it, chances were that she wasn’t the only one.

‘Can you email that to me?’ She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook and wrote down her mobile number and email address, tore it out and passed it to Torin. ‘Has she got any scars, or birthmarks, or tattoos? It makes it easier for us to check with the local hospitals in case she’s had an accident and been brought in without her handbag.’

He glanced at the scrap of paper Paula had given him then met her eyes again. ‘She has a tattoo of a bluebird on her left shoulder. And she’s got a scar on her right ankle where she broke it and they had to put a pin in.’

Paula made a quick note. ‘That’s very helpful.’

‘What are you going to do about my mum?’

‘I’ll make some phone calls. Talk to her colleagues.’

‘What about me?’

It was a good question. Torin was a minor and she knew she should phone the social services department and get a case worker assigned to him. But Bev might prove Paula’s professional unease unfounded. She might still turn up, embarrassed and awkward after an unpredicted night on the tiles. Then unpicking the process set in train by the social workers would be a nightmare for mother and son. She’d be stigmatised as an unfit mother and he’d be classified ‘at risk’. It might even have an impact on her job. Paula didn’t want that on her conscience. ‘Why don’t you just go to school?’

‘Like normal?’