At 8.50am she went back into the house and washed the smell of smoke off her hands before wiping down the highchair and removing Dylan from it. He toddled off purposefully in the direction of the living room and Kim, smiling, followed.

The living room floor was a mess of dolls and building blocks. Sweeping some out of the way with her foot, she went and sat down on the large grey sofa; she turned on the TV and went straight to the Sky News channel.

After sneering at the headline about Donald Trump’s latest decision, she leant forward to pay careful attention. A young man wearing a suit was standing on a path that led through Stourbridge Common, and behind him was a forensic tent.

‘Police have now confirmed the identity of the body discovered here yesterday morning. The victim, Antonia Jones, is a local woman. Her next of kin have been informed. Cambridgeshire Police were not willing to say any more at this stage, but have confirmed that they are conducting a murder inquiry. Back to John in the studio …’

Kim’s mouth fell open and she reached for the remote so she could rewind the programme. She couldn’t believe her ears and doubted that she’d heard right, but after listening to the report for a second time, she knew she had heard correctly.

Her hands shaking, she turned off the news and sat in silence for a while watching Dylan, who was pushing building blocks around aimlessly, before removing her mobile phone from her jeans pocket.

‘Amy?’ Kim could hear her voice shaking.

‘Morning, woman!’ Amy sounded jolly.

‘Have you seen the news?’

‘No. Why?’

‘It’s Toni. She’s dead.’

There was a long silence before Amy responded.

‘Don’t joke. It’s not funny,’ Amy teased.

‘Chick, I’m not joking. She’s fuckin’ dead. It’s all over the news. The body on the common. It’s Toni.’

The silence that hung between them was deafening.

‘She can’t be,’ Amy stuttered.

‘I know.’ Kim suddenly had the urge for another cigarette and picked up Dylan with her free arm. ‘It’s fucked up.’

‘What? How? I can’t believe it.’ Amy stumbled over her words, trying to process the information.

‘They are sayin’ it’s murder,’ Kim added gravely.

‘But we only saw her on Thursday.’

‘I know. It’s mad.’ Kim slipped Dylan back into his highchair as he started to whine and wriggle. ‘We’d better let the others know.’ Kim’s head was spinning as the news started to sink in.

‘Oh, Christ.’

‘You know they’ll want to talk to us.’ Kim sounded nervous and breathless.

‘Why? We were her friends. We saw her on Thursday night and they found the …’ she paused, wanting to find a nicer word, ‘body on Friday morning.’

‘Poor Gerald.’

‘Yeah. Poor bloke. He’ll be lost without her.’