‘Thank you, Niamh.’ It’s the woman, DS May, who speaks. ‘I understand you and Hollie spend quite a bit of time together.’

I nod.

‘When did you last see her?’

I think back to the last time Hollie was here. ‘It was last weekend.’ I glance at my mother.

‘Did she mention anything unusual? Or talk about running away, perhaps? Was she behaving strangely?’

I frown, not sure how to explain that Hollie isn’t like most people; that a lot of the time her behaviour can seem strange to others. At the same time, I’m frightened of saying the wrong thing, of them getting the wrong idea about her. ‘Not especially. I mean, she didn’t suggest she was about to do anything.’

My mother looks at me. ‘I was working that day. The last time I saw her here was the same day I found her skipping school. She seemed upset about something. Do you know what it was, Niamh?’

There’s an edge to her voice, as if she thinks I’m hiding something. Shaking my head, I keep my face blank. ‘She didn’t tell me.’

DS May frowns as she looks at me. ‘This could be important, Niamh. Do you have any idea at all what might have been upsetting her?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s easy to tell when she’s upset about something, but there’s a lot Hollie keeps to herself.’

DS May is quiet for a moment. ‘So what do the two of you like to talk about?’

I shrug. ‘Stuff. School. Music.’

DS May nods slowly. ‘Do you know if she has any other friends in the village?’

I shake my head again as my mother says quickly, ‘There aren’t any other teenagers in the village. There were the Morby twins, but they’re nineteen now and at university.’

Turning to her electronic notebook, I watch DS May scrutinise a list, then pause with her finger under a line. ‘The Morbys live at Apple Tree House?’

My mother nods.

DS May turns to my mother. ‘Your husband, Mrs Buckley … He’s a doctor, isn’t he?’

‘He’s a GP at the Meadowside practice.’

I feel a flicker of anxiety as I watch the policewoman make a note against her list. Why does she need to speak to my father? Why does she need to speak to any of us? Then, as if she can read my mind, her eyes meet mine. ‘It’s routine, Niamh. There isn’t any need for you to worry. We have to talk to everyone. It’s surprising how the smallest detail can help.’

*

When the police drive away, my mother looks at me. ‘You still haven’t heard anything from Hollie?’ Under her uniform-standard makeup, her skin is pale, her eyes anxious.