Maisie stopped but she kept her back to her daughter because she didn’t want her to see she was still crying. ‘I don’t know, love, but we’ll find him.’ She walked on to the kitchen, talking herself down as she always did when trouble found her. It’s OK, everything’s fine. He’s just on a jolly with the lads or with that Deirdre. He’s making me pay for dating Fred. He’s in big trouble with his mother but he’s safe. She tried to believe herself but her gut was screaming, Get help, get help, get help. She closed the kitchen door and rooted through her bag for Fred’s mobile number. She picked up her house phone and dialled it. He answered on the fifth ring.

‘Detective Brennan.’

‘It’s Maisie.’ Her voice sounded foreign and far away.

‘Mai?’ She registered alarm in his voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

She could hear him struggling to sit upright in the bed. ‘It’s Jeremy. He’s missing.’ The words rang in her ears.

‘How long?’

‘He didn’t come home last night, no one saw him at school, he wasn’t there yesterday morning. It was Sunday night!’ She spoke in a rushed, hushed manner, as though she couldn’t believe what she was saying, guilt dripping from every word.

‘It’s all right, do you hear me, Mai? It’ll be all right.’

‘I don’t think it is. Something’s really wrong, Fred.’ She wouldn’t allow herself to become hysterical. Breathe, just breathe, you silly cow. Hysterical never got anything done.

‘I’m on my way.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Put on the kettle.’

‘OK.’

‘And, Mai …’

‘Yeah?’

‘We will find him.’

She put down the phone and she switched on the kettle robotically, just like in the bad old days when all she felt was fear and pain.

Fred

Fred arrived before Bridie had stirred. Valerie let him in and led him through to the kitchen. She was fully dressed in her school uniform, subdued, not eating the cereal placed in front of her. She just stared at it as though the concept of breakfast had lost all meaning. He hugged Maisie. ‘I’m on the case,’ he said lightly. ‘You’ve got the best in the business here.’

She was pale and exhausted, a completely different woman from the one he’d bedded the night before. He put his arm around her shoulders and sat her down beside Valerie, then took a seat opposite them. She didn’t offer him coffee or tea, clearly too anxious for that, so instead he got straight to business, taking out his notepad and pen.

‘So, Sunday was the last time either of you saw Jeremy?’ he said.

They nodded.

‘What time?’

‘It was maybe half an hour before our …’ she faltered ‘… date.’

‘So, about seven thirty?’

She nodded again. That sounded about right.

‘Valerie?’

‘Maybe ten past or a quarter past eight.’