Charlie coughed and spluttered into a grey handkerchief that might once have been white. Vera looked up at her class. ‘So at this point everything done by the book, you see. All decisions and actions recorded. Exemplary social-work practice.’ She waved her fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks. The last phrase had been taken from the committee of inquiry’s report.

‘Where does the victim come into it?’ Charlie asked.

‘Jenny Lister.’ Vera emphasized the words, glared at him to make sure he’d got the point: the woman deserved the dignity of a name. ‘She was Connie Masters’s boss. She chaired the case conference. She’d known Elias’s mum since she was a bairn, because Mattie Jones had been in and out of care all her life too.’ She looked at Ashworth, inviting him to take over the story. He walked to the front of the room. Eh, lad, is this what you want? To be in charge and push me out, like some cuckoo shoving its overweight foster mam out of the nest. She wasn’t sure whether to be proud of him or annoyed by his cockiness.

‘So it was left to Connie Masters to follow up with the family. But she was falling apart at the time too. Her husband had just left her and she had a toddler to bring up on her own. A lot was made of that in the inquiry. It wasn’t felt that she was entirely objective when it came to working with Elias’s family.’ His tone was verging on the self-righteous. He could get that way at times, and it made Vera want to give him a good slap. Just because he had the perfect wife and kids, he thought everyone should be able to do it. But she let him continue.

‘Connie Masters arranged to take Elias out. Sold it to him as a treat. They’d take a picnic out to the coast, stop for fish and chips on the way home. She thought a full afternoon away and he’d be more likely to open up to her.’

‘Was that normal?’ Holly interrupted, turned in her seat to make sure they were all taking notice of her. ‘I mean, for a social worker to spend all afternoon on one child. If there was no real reason for concern. I thought they’re all supposed to be snowed under with work.’

‘This was a special child,’ Ashworth said. ‘A favourite, if you like. And like I said: Mattie was known to them, almost like family herself. Maybe they felt a special responsibility for her son.’

He showed no irritation at the interruption, but went on as if it hadn’t happened. ‘So there was an afternoon out at the seaside. Longsands, Tynemouth, with a bucket and spade, egg sandwiches and fizzy pop. Elias had a great time, making sandcastles, kicking about a ball. Connie asked him about his mam’s boyfriend: “What about Michael? Does he take you out?” But no response. Not even: “He’s OK.” Elias just refused to discuss him.’