Eimear was young, though, and it was hard work being a full-time mother. Every day started with a few hours’ sleep and became just one more endless cycle of feeding and washing and walking Lily. There was nothing left for her at the end of it. Her mother gave her lots of advice and stepped in to babysit sometimes, but her favourite phrase was, “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it”. Ironic, really. Lily hadn’t been conceived in a bed. Eimear had been bent over the bonnet of a car, six West Coast Coolers in, believing the man behind her was wearing a condom.

She’d learned a harsh lesson then and she was getting another one now.

The boot opened suddenly and Eimear was shocked to see it was light outside. How long had she been in the car? She felt woozy. The surprise morning sun assaulted her eyes and added to the feeling of being stunned, but then she remembered her plan and lashed out at her kidnapper.

It was futile. He was like a tree trunk, completely unfazed by her attack. He lifted her out of the car, throwing her over his shoulder as she hammered at his back and tried to kick him between the legs. She used everything – her nails, her teeth – nothing stopped him. Even as she was resisting, she noticed the white and grey pebbles on the ground, the dew on the grass, the daisies unfurling their petals after the night’s hibernation. Why, she wondered in the days to come, had those little things made such an imprint on her brain? Had she known it would be the last she’d see of God’s beautiful earth?

Then they were in a house and there was a hole in the floor. He started to climb down steps, even as she flailed and struggled on his shoulder.

He was bringing her into a cellar.

No, she screamed, but realised the sound hadn’t come out of her mouth. It was like a bad dream. She was yelling, but her lips weren’t cooperating. They wouldn’t open. Everything had stopped. Her limbs had ceased fighting, her voice refused to engage. All that was working was her mind and that was in overdrive – crying, pleading, begging – please, please, don’t leave me down here. Take me to Lily. Lily needs me. I’m her mammy.

He dumped her on the floor and climbed the stairs.

As the door slammed shut and the light disappeared, she conjured up the image of her little baby’s face – her green eyes and blonde curls, her tiny nose and rosebud lips, the pudgy, dimpled cheeks and soft chin. How had she not known that was all she’d needed?

And now, Eimear realised, she would never see Lily again.

CHAPTER 11