Unlike last night, the rapport with the coppers sent this morning had been cordial, entertaining even. They’d taken their hats off and brought cups of tea to people who’d drifted there in search of shelter. Sharon reckoned the whole of Penrith’s homeless had found their way to what was now a refuge of sorts. People had donated food to be handed out, not that anyone around here could afford it. She realised that a bit of common ground brought the best out in people.

Last night, scores of people had helped construct two barriers across the two main entrances and exits to and from the estate. Tents were erected and electrical wires ran from homes. Now, fires had been lit and food had been cooked on stoves, and it looked as though they’d been protesting there for months. Home-made banners read JUSTICE FOR KEIRA, MOTHERS UNITED and STOP KNIFE CRIME NOW. It was a peaceful protest and the detective had told her that the police were compelled to allow them their freedom of association, freedom of assembly and freedom of speech. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that forceful eviction of the peaceful protesters would gain huge national attention and make the police look like thugs – again – especially with children involved. Now, journalists were turning up and asking people to pose with the coppers, which they did happily, except for a few kids who should have been at school and didn’t want to get caught skipping lessons.

News travelled quickly, and a steady trickle of residents appeared, as well as people from elsewhere in Penrith and even neighbouring towns, armed with blankets, food, chairs and toys. They greeted Sharon like some kind of well-known figure, and it was clear that she was gaining a status that gave her leverage among her peers. Grief had given her power and she intended to use it wisely. She marched around with a purpose and she looked different too. Her face was fresher, her eyes alive. The attention suited her.

‘You need to get some sleep, Shaz,’ a woman said.

‘I can’t sleep. No use. I don’t wanna sleep until I get the bastard who did it. Anyone heard from that boyfriend of hers yet? He’s a skanky coward, that one.’

‘Reckon it’s him?’

‘I dunno. Guns don’t think so. The pigs’ll find someone, but they need evidence.’

The identity of Keira’s recent alleged boyfriend had been confirmed by several estate members coming forward purely because of Sharon’s appeal.

‘He don’t wanna be found, does he? Cowardly little bastard. Police were in his flat all afternoon yesterday. I wanna know why he’s hiding and who he’s protecting.’

‘I heard about him. He’s in with the Cotton brothers, ain’t he?’

‘Ain’t everyone?’