Taking the path to the church, all the while I’m thinking of her, frozen leaves crunching under my footsteps as I walk. Then, as I come to the churchyard, my shiver isn’t because of the cold. It’s the rows of frozen headstones, frosted grey against the snow; the motionless bell in the tower, its single tone waiting to announce the passing of another soul; the knowledge that I’m surrounded by ghosts.

I force myself to open the church door. The latch is frozen shut, so that at first I think it’s been locked, but then it opens suddenly. Inside there is no welcoming light, no hope, just the same dank cold and the sound of mice, as I imagine the ghosts closing in around me. Leaving the church without closing the door behind me, I run.

*

It’s later when, from an upstairs window, I watch the police car pull into our drive. When the knock comes, I open the front door to find a policewoman and a younger policeman looking at me. The older woman, with brown hair, shows me her ID.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant May. We’re from Chichester Police.’ She seems to look past me into the house. ‘Are your parents at home?’

I shake my head. ‘They’re both at work.’

She nods. ‘We’re making inquiries into the whereabouts of Hollie Hampton. Can you tell us when you last saw her?’

I frown at her. Before I can answer, I hear a car turn into the drive. ‘That’s my mother.’

Both police officers turn to look as she parks, and DS May nods again. ‘We’ll wait here.’

Closing the door, I watch from the kitchen window as my mother gets out of her car. I frown. She had a flight today – it must have been a short one for her to be back so early. As she walks towards the police, her big woollen cardigan falls open, revealing her navy uniform dress and patterned scarf underneath.

As they come inside, I go upstairs. From the top of the staircase, I listen to them in the kitchen, hearing chairs being pulled out, jackets taken off, the kettle being switched on followed by the clink of mugs. Then there are voices, but they’re too low to make out the words.

Ten minutes later, I’m in my bedroom when my mother’s voice calls up to me. ‘Niamh? Could you come downstairs?’

I’m gripped by nervousness as I make my way down, wondering why they want to talk to me, what they want to ask.

My mother’s face is pale when I go into the kitchen. ‘This is Detective Sergeant May and Constable Emerson. They’re looking for Hollie, Niamh. They just want to ask you one or two questions.’

Their eyes follow me as I pull out an empty chair and sit down.