They’d lived in the house – a Victorian-era, white-rendered semi in a quiet road on the east side of Mansell – for seven years and the hallway, like most of the other rooms, hadn’t been touched since the refurbishment they carried out when they moved in. Money wasn’t an issue – both of them had decent jobs, Ewan as a self-employed structural engineer and her working as a project coordinator for their local council’s Environmental and Community Services department – but time was. There weren’t enough hours in the day for her to sort out decorators and builders on top of everything else.

She couldn’t hear the children moving around on the floor above, so she went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to them. There was a cobweb spanning two banister spindles and she batted it away with her hand.

‘We’re going to be late. I hope you’re dressed, Poppy!’

Dylan appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘Is she ready?’

His face was pinched. ‘She’s not here.’

‘Don’t be silly, of course she is. Check –’

There was a noise at the front door. Not the doorbell but someone banging the letter-box knocker. Three short raps, a pause, then three more.

‘She must be in the bathroom. You check while I get this,’ she said.

The frosted glass in the door panel had warped the outlines of the unexpected callers but Julia knew instantly who they were. Trembling, she opened the door to them.

‘Mrs Hepworth?’ queried the taller of the two male officers. This one was wearing his hat but his colleague had his tucked under his arm, his face sheened with sweat.

She nodded.

‘Can we come in?’

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, conditioning making her fear the worst. The police didn’t usually turn up on doorsteps with good news.

Dylan appeared at her side and pressed his little body, sharp angled and skinny, into hers. Her arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

‘It would be better if we came inside,’ said the tall one.

Julia let them in but the hallway was as far as she would allow them.

‘Please tell me what’s going on.’

It couldn’t be Ewan. Even if he’d had an accident it was surely too soon for the police to show up.

‘We need you to accompany us to Rushbrooke Primary School, Mrs Hepworth,’ said the shorter one. ‘There’s been an incident on site involving your daughter.’

Julia was bemused. ‘It can’t do. She’s still upstairs. We’re running late,’ she said apologetically, as if the officers would care.

Dylan prodded her in the side.

‘Mum,’ he whispered.

‘Not now, Dylan, the grown-ups are talking.’

The short one gave her a solemn look.

‘You need to come with us now, Mrs Hepworth,’ he said. ‘Your daughter needs you.’

‘There’s been a mistake,’ Julia insisted. ‘Poppy hasn’t left for school yet.’