Kate knew Sarah was doing her best, but she found her calmness infuriating. Her shoulders were hunched aggressively as she listened to Sarah’s response.

‘They don’t believe the case is strong enough. They don’t think it will lead to a conviction.’

Kate spun around. ‘What?’

‘They’ve re-evaluated the evidence. They don’t think it’s strong enough,’ Sarah repeated.

‘I want to see the prosecuting officer.’

‘That is possible. But the meeting would just be to explain their decision. The CPS don’t have to justify it, nor, I’m afraid, are you able to challenge it.’

Breathing deeply to stop the pain and frustration overwhelming her, Kate forced herself to sit back at the kitchen table, opposite Sarah. She placed her palms quietly onto her knees. Appealed to her. ‘But surely . . . he killed her. He says he didn’t see her but that’s not good enough, surely? How can that be an excuse? Why didn’t he see her in his mirrors? And there was the sight test that he failed! What about that?’

‘I’m very sorry, Kate, but the unfortunate truth of the matter is that the sight test was done three months after the accident.’

‘So?’

Sarah looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t prove that his sight was defective at the time of the collision.’

Kate was aghast. ‘What? Why wasn’t it done before then? On the day?’

‘I’m afraid that’s a question the senior investigation officer would have to answer.’

‘I’m asking you.’

Sarah remained calm. ‘I’ll put that question to him for you.’

‘You do that. The driver should have bloody seen her! Why didn’t he? What was he doing? Where was he looking? I want to talk to him.’ Kate had started pacing again and could feel herself getting hysterical.

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

‘Course not! Of course it’s bloody not! I’m not allowed to ask or to say anything. Not allowed to question anybody. Not allowed to see any evidence. Not allowed to have an opinion. I just have to listen to all this bloody rubbish and . . .’ She sat down suddenly, broken and deflated. ‘She’s my daughter, you know, my lovely, wonderful daughter.’

SIX

The summer passed in a haze of grief for Kate and, standing outside the courtroom, shivering in the cool breeze, she was suddenly aware it was the first autumnal day since Becky had died. Time was creating distance, but Kate didn’t get any comfort, in fact it was the opposite. The pain and the longing became increasingly more acute as she was channelled further away from her daughter.

‘You’re sure you want to do this?’ asked Tim.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I want to see him.’

She meant the driver. She wanted to see what the man who had knocked down and killed her daughter was like. And there was another reason. Secretly, instinctively, she felt that the coroner would come to this inquest with the same sense of disbelief, of incredulity, that she had endured now for months. He would hear the witness statements and the police reports and conclude that this had all been dealt with incompetently and inadequately. He would recognize that someone had died, and this was the main point here, and it was inexcusable and this hideous, sickening powerlessness would be taken away from her.