The next day, I call work and arrange to take a couple of days’ unpaid leave. I can’t go away, leaving Niamh here alone. It isn’t just the thought of the press hanging around, it’s the noticeable impact of Hollie’s death. While Niamh’s never been demonstrative, she seems to have closed up completely, the extent of her silent calm unnerving me.

I have the strangest sensation, as though time itself has been paused. It’s a morning when I should have been on my way to Zurich, when Niamh should have gone back to school; a morning that, in the aftermath of Hollie’s death, the minutes have slowed, our lives changing around us invisibly – irrevocably – as we wait to hear more. It takes until the afternoon for the police to arrive. Opening the door, I hesitate before I recognise DS May from last time. Instead of a uniform, she’s wearing a black, well-cut coat and lace-up boots.

‘Mrs Buckley? May we come in?’ Behind her is a uniformed police officer.

‘Of course.’ I stand back to let them in, then close the door behind them. ‘Would you like to come through to the kitchen?’

‘Thank you. This is Sergeant Collins.’ DS May gestures towards her colleague. ‘I appreciate this probably isn’t an easy time, but could we talk to you and your daughter?’

‘By all means.’ I gesture towards the kitchen table. ‘Do you want to take a seat? I’ll find Niamh.’

‘Before you do, Mrs Buckley …’ DS May speaks quietly ‘… I’m not sure whether you know, but Hollie drowned. You might want to tell her first, as she might find the news rather distressing.’

‘We do know.’ Taking in their surprised glances, I add, ‘My husband is the local GP. He told me the night before last.’ I start walking towards the stairs, calling up. ‘Niamh? Could you come down here for a minute?’

As I look up, her pinched face appears in her bedroom doorway.

‘The police are here again.’

Niamh comes closer, a worried look on her face as she peers through the bannisters. ‘Have they said any more about what happened to her?’

Shaking my head, I go up the stairs towards her. ‘No more than we already know. They just said they’d like to talk to both of us.’

Niamh’s intake of breath is sharp and I wonder if it’s too much for her.

‘If you’re up to it?’ I look at her anxiously. ‘I can tell them if you’re not.’

Wordlessly she nods, then slowly comes downstairs. When we go into the kitchen, I pull out a chair near mine for her to sit on. ‘This is Sergeant Collins and Detective Sergeant May – you met last time?’ I remind Niamh, nodding towards the woman.