Focus on the victim, she told herself. I am her witness, and that’s more important than anything that’s happened to me.

Eventually her brain reacted to her command and the tidal wave began to retreat, slowly at first, but then more swiftly.

And then it was gone.

Rhona released the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding and set about taping the body in situ, as there was always a chance that she might recover something other than soil. Once on the mortuary slab, all this would happen again, but in the movement between here and there, something vital could be lost.

It was time to write up her notes. Climbing out of the grave, Rhona settled down with her notebook. She felt strangely calm now, knowing the emotional storm had passed. Having weathered it, she could feel more confident about working in confined locations again.

It had grown cold as the early April sun had started its descent. Having now bagged the remains for the journey to the mortuary, the locus would be covered, and they would return to it in the morning. A careful study of the soil beneath the body was as important as the material removed from above.

‘Are we just securing the plastic bag and its contents?’ Chrissy asked on her return.

‘We’ll check inside and bag the items separately,’ Rhona said.

Rhona carefully opened the bag, noting how resilient the plastic had been. It was no wonder that the world was groaning under an ever-increasing accumulation of plastic in the time since the plastic bag had become a shopping essential.

The first item she extracted turned out to be a plastic tiara with a stained veil attached. Next came the remains of a white net dress and underskirt. Finally, a pair of small black pumps with a bow.

The clothing was, of course, circumstantial but it did point to their initial thought that they were likely dealing with a young female.

As each item was recorded and bagged, the air of sadness between them grew.

‘That might have been the outfit I wore when I was confirmed,’ Chrissy said, a catch in her throat. ‘Except for the shoes. Mine were white.’

‘How old were you back then?’ Rhona said.

‘Eleven. What are you thinking?’ Chrissy added, noting Rhona’s thoughtful expression.

‘I was wondering what happened to her underwear.’

7

Diary entry of Karen Marshall aged 11

3 May 1975

Today was Mary’s birthday. We were meant to have a party. But she hasn’t come home and the police are still searching for her. When the news comes on, Dad switches off the TV.

I heard Dad tell Mum the police think Mary was abducted?? On her way back from chapel after her confirmation. Probably by a man with a car.

What man? No one round here has a car except Father Feeney.

I thought about the man at the shops, but his coat is ragged so I don’t think he has a car.