I didn’t ask her to tell me, though. I stayed quiet. I’d learned that staying quiet generally made things go away quicker. I had already become adept at managing harmful situations. Or so I thought.

‘I’d kill myself,’ she said, as if she was talking to no one, then she turned to look at me. ‘Don’t you think that would be an idea? I mean, you must miss your mum a lot, and you could be back with her? I know some people say it’s a sin, but how could it be? You’d just be going to be with your mum.’

She stared at me for a moment while I stared back. I didn’t know what to say. How to react.

‘That’s what I’d do anyway,’ she added before getting up and walking out of the room, leaving me, an eleven-year-old child, wondering if she had a point.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ciara

Now

‘We can do this in the morning, if you’re getting too tired.’ Detective Constable Eve King sits opposite me. She looks younger than me. Prettier too. Petite and able to carry off one of those pixie haircuts I’d love to have but that wouldn’t suit my taller, more rounded frame.

She has a gentle way about her, a face that shows sympathy. I have to remind myself why she is here and why she wants to talk to me in the first place.

‘I think I’d rather get this over and done with for now,’ I say.

‘And you’re sure you don’t want to have any legal representation?’

‘There’s no need. I’ve not done anything wrong.’ I wonder if I sound too defensive.

‘Okay,’ DC King says. ‘You can ask for legal representation at any time, and I’ll remind you that you are not under any direct suspicion at this time. However, we will be making a note of everything you say and if things change, this information could be used in any court proceedings.’

I nod, wonder how long it will take. I’m so tired by now I think I could lie in bed while the SOCOs searched around me and not be bothered.

‘When was the last time you spoke with your father?’ she asks, DC Black at her side, pen poised.

‘I’m not sure. Maybe it was around eight thirty. Nine perhaps. I brought him a cup of tea.’

‘And did you stay with him for any length of time?’

‘Not really. Five minutes maybe.’

‘And what did you do when you were there?’

I shift in my seat. I don’t want to tell her what I did when I was there. Things had become heated. Tension that had been simmering had boiled over. There’s no way she would understand. There’s no way in which telling her the truth would work in my favour.

I edit the facts in my head before I speak. ‘I sat with him, on the chair by his bed, for a bit while he drank some of his tea. We talked about how he was feeling and then he said he was tired and was going to sleep, so I left.’