“How was the pub?” she asks.

“Fine. Just normal,” I lie.

“Brian looked after you, did he?”

I shrug, pour myself a glass of water. “How’s it going with the volunteers?” I ask before drinking the water in one go.

“Amazing. People are really coming out of the woodwork to help, but of course I’m not surprised: everyone loves them. There’s been a good turnout from the Wishmakers too. If only I could say the same for the police. Upton called me today and basically asked me to call the whole community search off. I almost told her that if they were doing their job properly they would have Grace safely home already. Simon’s dangerous, but from what Meg told me about him, he’s too stupid to be some kind of criminal mastermind,” Mum says, sitting back at the table and sighing as she looks at the blank page in front of her before turning again to face me.

“I spoke to Jane today as well, Car, she was talking about that counseling again, she was saying how—”

“Mum,” I cut in, “did Meg ever have a job?”

Mum’s eyes dart to the far corner of the ceiling, as though something’s caught her attention up there or as though she doesn’t want to look at me. She frowns. “What’s brought this on?”

“I’m just curious. I know she never worked when they moved here, but before, I mean, when they were in Plymouth, was she ever able to work then?”

Mum leans back in her chair and sighs again, but this time at me. “Cara, being a single mum is the toughest job you can imagine, let alone when you’re a single mum to a very sick child . . .” Her voice has a frayed, defensive quality.

“Mum, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m asking because I found a—”

“And I’m trying to answer, but you’re not listening to me.” She smacks her hand down on the kitchen table. We both stare at it, surprised by her overreaction. She closes her eyes briefly and comes to stand opposite me.

“Look, Car, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just worried about how you’re reacting to all this. Like I tried to say earlier, Jane and I were talking today and she said that counseling—”

“I don’t want to see a counselor, Mum, I want to find Grace.” I sound angrier than I mean to.

“I know you do, love, we all do, but you’ve been through a huge trauma. I know you’re trying to battle on, pretend like it never happened, but that can’t go on forever, Car, you’ll make yourself ill.” Mum pushes some hair back behind my ear. Her long nail against my skin makes me shiver. I pull my head away and she looks newly hurt. Her hand drops to my shoulder.

“That’s exactly what you do, though, isn’t it? Battle on. Why aren’t I allowed to do the same?” I ask, my voice calmer.