Mark shook his head, catching a frown from Stephanie as he did so. The radio was playing softly in the background, before a grave news voice kicked in.

‘A body has been found on Liverpool’s waterfront area this morning, in the search for missing teenager Emily Burns…’

Mark reached across and shut off the radio before standing up, hoping to distract the two women. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’

‘Seems like the good British thing to do,’ Stephanie replied, as Julie continued to stare out of the window. ‘You know where it is.’

It wasn’t a question. He nodded and stood up, making his way towards the kitchen. He lifted the kettle and filled it, spying the big man out in the back garden through the window. He had his back turned to him, phone clasped to one ear, as the other hand gesticulated wildly. Mark stepped away, his eyes still on the man’s back, clicking the kettle back into its base and flicking it on.

He wondered what the uncle was doing out there. Who he was talking to. What he was saying.

He took a few mugs down from the cupboard, rinsed them and put a teabag in each, lost for a few seconds in the mundanity of it. It wasn’t exactly in the training, making cups of tea for grieving family members.

‘Is my sister dead?’

Mark had been pulling the cutlery drawer open when the voice jumped into the silence behind him. He banged the thing shut, knives and forks startling themselves with a clang. He turned, breathing harder than he wanted to show.

‘Charlie,’ he said, trying to calm himself. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘Is she dead?’

Mark cocked his head, quickly working out how best to approach the youngest member of the Burns family who had been mute up to now. ‘I’m afraid we don’t know. We’re waiting to hear what’s happening at the moment. Nothing has been confirmed yet. We should have more information about the next steps soon.’

‘Why won’t you answer the question properly? She’s either alive or not. She’s not Schrödinger’s cat.’

Mark considered the young lad more closely, the way his arms folded across his chest, chin jutting forward with barely disguised disdain for him. The typical teenage pose when confronted with authority. There was something else there though. Something barely constrained, under the surface. He wasn’t sure what it was. ‘Someone has died,’ he said, choosing his words ever more carefully. ‘We don’t know if it’s Emily or not right now. As I said, we have to wait for more information.’

‘I knew she would be,’ Charlie replied. He was playing the role of unaffected teen well. But when Mark had spoken, he’d noticed a slight clouding of his eyes. As if he’d been expecting to hear something else. Had knowledge of something else.