I sigh. ‘Not really. But she will be. Here. This is my car.’ As I walk around to the driver’s seat, Niamh gets in. After starting the engine and driving away, I go on. ‘Is everything OK at home, Niamh?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice is small.

‘What about with your dad?’

Niamh just shrugs.

I sigh. There’s no easy way to do this. ‘Last night … Did you see what happened to your mum?’

‘No.’ Her answer is too quick, too tight. ‘I was in my room. She said it was an accident.’

‘How well do you get on with your dad?’

I know I haven’t imagined her sharp intake of breath. But again, all she says is, ‘OK.’

In the end, I have to ask. ‘Was it you who called me last night? After your mum fell? From her phone?’ My voice is gentle; I want her to trust me.

She shakes her head. ‘No.’

In the end, I have to give up. It’s obvious Niamh doesn’t yet trust me enough to tell me what really happened. As we reach Abingworth, she becomes increasingly agitated. ‘Can I get out at the bus stop?’

‘Of course.’ Realising she’s worried about her father seeing her in my car, I slow down, then pull over at the side of the road. As she opens the car door, I pass her my card. ‘Niamh, if you’re ever worried, or you want to talk about anything, you can always call me.’

Nodding briefly, she takes the card, then gets out and slams the door, leaving me with no choice but to watch uneasily as she walks away, her pale hair and slight shoulders making her look small as she crosses the road and disappears into the Buckleys’ drive.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Elise

The day my husband hits me puts my plans back, but the fact he now feels confident enough to beat me when Niamh is in the house makes me even more determined to get her away from him. Just leave, my heart tells me. Get out while you can, before he does it again – or worse. But there’s another part of me, which has been subdued too long, that’s growing louder all the time. A part that says, Andrew deserves to pay.

When DS May came to the hospital, I almost told her everything about my life – my husband’s abuse, my son’s death, my fears for Niamh. I would have told her about the image on Andrew’s phone, too, but having experienced the force of his anger, I can’t take the risk of him beating me again. Andrew needs to be seen for what he is – and he will be – I’ll make sure of it. Until then, I have to let him believe he’s won.