I look at her and think of the vibrant young woman she used to be.

‘Of course it will,’ Ciara says, rubbing her hand. ‘This was your brother’s home.’

There’s no doubt this dig is entirely in my direction.

I bite my tongue again. Now is not the time to say I want space. I can’t in good conscience force them to leave, or tell them they should all go until we have news from Belfast. And I certainly can’t make a solid case for Kathleen not sleeping in Joe’s room, other than the thought of it makes my skin crawl more than a little. If she’s happy enough to do so, if it doesn’t make her feel uncomfortable, who am I to argue?

Kathleen stands up, wipes away her tears on the sleeves of her cardigan. ‘I think I’ll go and get the room ready. Maybe even have a sleep.’

‘I’ll help you make up the bed,’ Ciara says, getting to her feet.

I’m about to ask Alex if he finds it all as strange as I do, when the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll get it,’ he says and leaves me holding the baby and feeling an impending sense of doom.

I hear an unfamiliar voice, solemn, formal. Alex says, ‘I think you’d better come in.’ He calls to Ciara and Kathleen, and me, that DI Bradley is at the door with two of his colleagues and he would like to speak to us.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Heidi

Now

We expected a phone call. We expected the funeral directors. We didn’t expect DI Bradley to show up at the door. I’m not naive enough to think that a senior police officer calls out to a home at night without good reason or simply to pass on ‘good’ news.

DI Bradley follows Alex into the living room, asks if it’s okay to sit down. I follow them in. The woman in the room is DC Eve King who came out earlier. I don’t recognise the third colleague, but watch as he awkwardly sits down on one of the dining chairs we have moved into the room. He’s at least six foot four and looks as if he is made of right angles, his legs too long and gangly. I stare at his feet, which seem inordinately big.

DI Bradley introduces the big-footed man as DC Mark Black, who in turn takes out a notebook and pen, his large hands dwarfing the pencil in them. None of us speak, and we are joined by Kathleen and Ciara.

‘Is Ms Brown here?’ DI Bradley asks.

‘Stella’s running a few errands. She’ll be back in about an hour or so,’ Ciara says.

‘Okay,’ DI Bradley nods as if he is giving himself time to think.

I wish he’d just spit it out. I can’t breathe with fear.

‘I’m afraid I have some distressing news for you, and in light of this we will need to speak to each of you on an individual basis. We can speak to you all here, or if you would prefer, we can talk at the station.’