She turned her attention back to the boy whom she thought of as Ricky Butt reincarnated. ‘And she saw you, missing lessons, having lied to your mother again. Maybe that was when she decided she couldn’t let it go any longer, that she couldn’t save you. You weren’t to be her route to salvation after all.’

Vera saw that they were looking at her strangely and, when she continued, her voice was crisp and matter-of-fact. ‘Margaret had seen you in town before, of course. There was the day she took Dee Robson into Newcastle to buy her a winter coat. She’d told Dee that the Haven charity would pay for it, but of course that wasn’t true. She’d paid for it herself. Margaret was a kind woman. A good woman. She saw you swaggering through town, playing truant, playing whatever game made you money. She knew your mam was worried about you and she chased after you, hoping to make you see sense. And what did you do? You ran away.’

For the first time since she’d started talking Vera looked at Kate Dewar. She was a good woman too. A woman who had wanted to think well of her son. A woman who had hoped for some joy and excitement as she reached middle age.

‘Dee Robson saw you,’ Vera continued. ‘She saw you run off into the crowd. And she was on the Metro the day you killed Margaret. Pissed and hardly aware of anything, but you knew her, didn’t you? Everyone in Harbour Street knew the fat slag Dee Robson.’

The boy looked up, almost provoked to speak. There was a moment of silence. Vera changed the subject abruptly.

‘Tell me about the photograph, Ryan. The photograph that you stole from Mr Booth’s wallet.’ Vera knew this would be upsetting to Kate, but at this point her lover’s past was less important than getting the boy to talk.

‘It was gross.’ Ryan’s face was red, the picture of righteous indignation. ‘Margaret dressed in hardly anything. Stockings. Posing. Like those cards that Dee Robson stuck up all over the Metro station.’

Vera shot a glance at Kate, but her face was blank. Vera thought she couldn’t take in this extra information.

‘You’d looked in Mr Booth’s wallet for money?’

‘He had plenty.’ Ryan looked up and gave that slow, sly smile. ‘He’d have given it to me, if I’d asked. I just couldn’t stand the lecture that would’ve come with it.’

‘And you thought the photo would be much more valuable?’

‘I was shocked,’ Ryan said. ‘I wasn’t thinking like that. I just took it.’

And brooded about it. And wondered how you could best make use of it.

‘You showed it to Margaret.’ Not a question. Vera still wasn’t sure how this had worked, but she wasn’t going to let the boy see that.