I’m still struggling to take in the news of Hollie’s death when it’s time for me to tell Niamh later on. She listens in silence, then gets up and pushes past me on her way to the bathroom, making it just in time before she throws up.

When she comes back, her face is ashen, her body slumped as I put my arms around her, wishing I could take the pain away. Lowering my head to rest against hers, I hate what this is doing to her, but there’s nothing I can say to change this most brutal of realities.

She should be going to school tomorrow, but after this latest shock, knowing that word will soon get around, I want to protect her. As we stand there, the breeze ripples through her open window, the silence only broken by the gradual crescendo from outside as the rain starts.

*

Wanting to be home for Niamh, I take another week’s unpaid leave. As the rain falls relentlessly in the days that follow, I realise how little I know about the people around me. I’ve spoken to Ida Jones now and then, but never about anything other than the most trivial matters, and when I see our other neighbours, conversation is superficial, the briefest of exchanges. None of us open our hearts, bare our souls. Each of us has our own lives, just as each of us has secrets. Even Della, whom I’m closest to, only sees what I choose to share with her, as I hide the miserable truth from everyone.

Nearly two weeks after Hollie’s body was found, a police car pulls up outside the house. As DS May gets out and hurries through the rain, I go to open the door.

This time, she’s alone. ‘Sorry to turn up without warning. Do you mind if I come in?’

‘Of course.’ I’m already standing back to let her in. ‘Can I take your jacket?’

‘Thanks.’

I wait as she slips it off before I hang it near a radiator, then lead her through to the kitchen. ‘Do sit down.’ Her long hair is rolled into a twist, and in a pale blouse and black trousers, she appears coolly confident. As I sit across the table from her, I feel I’m under scrutiny, uncomfortable even before she speaks.

‘What a day. Still, at least it puts the press off. Have they been back here since last time?’

‘No.’ I frown. She didn’t come here to talk about the press.

Leaning forward in her chair, she looks at me. ‘I wanted to talk to you about Niamh’s friendship with Hollie. Was there anything about Hollie that made you concerned about them spending so much time together? It’s just that we’re getting a picture of quite a troubled teenager.’