‘Young love,’ Queenie replied. ‘I think your Bonnie and my Vinny had a tiff and split up. Shame. I thought she was good for him. Such a lovely girl,’ Queenie fibbed.

Mrs Tarbuck shook her head. ‘No. You don’t understand, Queenie. Something happened that night, something that Bonnie won’t tell me about. I think she was attacked, or worse.’

‘My Vinny’s a gentleman, I’ll have you know. I raised him that way,’ Queenie snapped abruptly.

‘I’ve searched everywhere for the underwear Bonnie was wearing, but couldn’t find her knickers. She also has bruising around her throat. I’m not blaming Vinny, Queenie, but could you talk to him? I need to know exactly what happened and where Vinny left her. I threatened to call the police and Bonnie went ballistic. I know my own daughter. Something traumatic happened to her that night.’

Queenie felt herself go cold; a shiver ran right down her spine. Memories came flooding back: the drive down that bumpy track, herself running across fields, desperate to get away from him. That vile man who she refused to think about any more. Instinct told Queenie that Vinny was responsible for whatever trauma Bonnie suffered. He’d been acting differently since Saturday night, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Mrs Tarbuck.

Giving the woman’s arm a squeeze, Queenie told her, ‘I’m so sorry if what you’re saying is true, my love. But Bonnie is probably just upset over breaking up with Vinny. He’s only a child still, not even sixteen yet. But I will talk to him tonight, find out what happened, I promise. I’ll give you a knock tomorrow daytime.’

‘No. Don’t knock. I don’t want Bonnie’s dad or brother to know anything is wrong. I’ve kept this from them. My hubby is very over-protective of Bonnie and I don’t want trouble. Thank you, Queenie, and please call me June in future. Can we meet in Jack’s cafe? At noon, say? I don’t want Bonnie to know I’ve spoken to you either. She begged me not to.’

Queenie squeezed the distraught woman’s arm once more. ‘OK, June. I’ll see you at noon tomorrow, lovely. I do hope Bonnie is feeling better soon. I’m sure she will be.’

Queenie rushed home, feeling sick inside. She needed to confront her firstborn and get the truth out of him, for his own bloody sake.

Vinny arrived home late. Gone 11 p.m. by the time he rolled in. Roy, Michael and Brenda were all in bed. Only Albie was still out and, frankly, Queenie couldn’t give a toss where he was.

‘I’ve decided, Mum. I love that snooker club so much, one day I’m gonna buy it, when I’m rich enough,’ Vinny grinned. ‘It’s got great potential.’

‘Sit down, boy,’ Queenie said sternly. ‘We need to talk.’

Vinny sat on the armchair opposite. ‘What’s up?’

Queenie decided bluntness was the only way to deal with this particular situation. No point beating about the bush. ‘I know you attacked Bonnie on Saturday night. Don’t panic, nobody else knows. But I need you to tell me why you did it. What you tell me will stay between us. But I need to know what possessed you to do such a thing?’ Queenie could not bring herself to mention the word ‘rape’. That word had always disgusted her.