‘No.’

‘I let him have his privacy. It’s important for a teenage boy.’

‘You were right.’

‘Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was a fool.’

‘You weren’t and you aren’t.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Two more bites.’

‘One.’

‘Make it a big one and I’ll tell you the latest development.’

She took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

‘Tom interviewed the young fella who saw the lads by Bridget Burke’s pub. Chris Kinsella.’

‘Jugs? He’s on the football team.’

‘That’s right.’

‘The good news is that the pub has a CCTV camera and, if Jugs is right, the boys will have been captured on it. It will give us a definite time and an indication as to which way they were headed.’

‘CCTV – that’s something, isn’t it?’

‘It is. Drink yer tea, love.’

She did as she was told.

Lynn brought Bridie back at eight and she was clearly unsettled, agitated and upset. She cried when Maisie opened the door. ‘It’s gone,’ she said. She couldn’t rest or relax. She wanted to find something she’d lost but couldn’t remember what it was.

Maisie pulled her mother into her arms. ‘It’s all right, Ma, I’m here, Maisie’s here.’

‘It’s really gone this time, Maisie.’ Bridie hugged her daughter close.

‘No,’ she soothed. ‘We’ll find it.’ Maisie was crying again. ‘We won’t stop looking till we do.’

Bridie wiped the tears from Maisie’s face. ‘OK, love. That would be great. You know how I hate to lose things.’

‘I do, Ma.’

Bridie sniffed. ‘Don’t be upsetting yourself on my account.’ She walked into her room.

Lynn hugged Maisie. ‘She’s been up and down all day.’

‘Has she asked for him?’ Maisie said.

‘No, she’s just been talking about when he was a little boy.’

‘She knows,’ Maisie said, and her insides burned. ‘She doesn’t know that she knows, but she knows.’ Oh, Ma, I’m so sorry.

Lynn nodded, and Maisie felt like dissolving into a puddle. What am I going to do?

‘What else can I do?’ Lynn said, taking off her coat and hanging it in the hall.

‘You can have a cup of tea.’ Fred emerged from the kitchen.

Lynn smiled at him. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Detective Brennan. That’d be lovely.’

‘Fred, please.’

She followed him to the kitchen.

Maisie went into Bridie’s bedroom wearing her nightie and the thick socks Fred had insisted she keep on. She helped her overtired, overwrought mother into bed. It didn’t take long. She cried softly, but was compliant. Maisie tucked her in.

‘I wish I was somewhere else,’ Bridie said.

‘Where’s that, Ma?’

‘Where Jeremy always goes.’

‘Where, Ma? Where does he go?’ For a moment she dared to dream that maybe Jeremy had told Bridie something he hadn’t told her.

‘Inside of happy.’

Disappointment hit her like a train.