Patrick hesitated. How the hell was he going to write up the report without mentioning this one, crucial bit of information? Eileen would have to give a statement. Her eyes pleaded with him, and he had a sudden, unbidden thought of Gill locked up in her secure mental unit, trapped by one hasty, life-ruining action.

He was torn. He could imagine how devastated Alice would be if she learned the truth. But he was a police officer, a detective. It was his job to uncover the truth.

Eileen stared at him with desperate eyes. ‘Please, detective. Please don’t tell anyone.’

He walked away, leaving her sobbing. He had no idea what to do.

Chapter 47

Chapter 47
Patrick – Afterwards

Bonnie sat on the edge of the bed with her bare feet sticking straight out in front of her and watched, solemn-eyed, as Patrick got dressed. Black suit – last worn at Gill’s trial – white shirt, ironed carefully by Mairead the night before, black tie, hastily purchased from Asda for the occasion, shiny black shoes.

‘Daddy look ’mart,’ she observed, removing her thumb from her mouth to pass judgement.

‘Thank you darling. I need to look smart today.’

‘Why, Daddy?’

‘I’m going to . . . say goodbye to a nice man who had a hard time.’

‘Oh. Bring me back some sweeties?’

Patrick smiled at his daughter in the mirror as he straightened the stiff new tie. Thome thweeties. He could listen to Bonnie’s voice all day long. Perhaps he should record it on his phone and listen to it through headphones when Winkler was being a tit, to de-stress himself. ‘OK, if you’re a good girl for Nana.’

‘I am.’ Bonnie graciously inclined her head.

‘Excellent,’ Patrick said, ruffling her hair as he left the room.

An hour later, he slipped into a pew near the back of the handsome Victorian galleried church, still wearing the shades he was glad he had with him when running the gamut of the paparazzi outside. The poor Philips women, having to cope with that, he thought. There they were, up in the front row, the backs of their heads rigid as they stared straight ahead. Eileen and Helen were both wearing big hats, and when Eileen leaned in to say something to her daughter-in-law, the brims clashed and they both leaped back as though scalded.

Helen obviously didn’t know, Patrick surmised. She couldn’t do, surely, not if she had agreed to have Eileen sitting next to her. The thought of how much more damage Eileen – or he, for that matter – could do to poor Helen and Alice . . . It made Patrick’s stomach twitch with anxiety.