Sliding off the bed, I get up and walk over to the window. It’s almost dark, the rain still beating on the glass. I turn to face my mother. ‘She made me promise.’

There’s a moment of silence before my mother reacts. This time, she doesn’t hide her irritation with me. ‘She’s dead, Niamh. Don’t you think this is more important than a promise?’

I stare at her. I’m not the only one who’s holding something back. Then I say it. ‘Have you told them everything?’

Watching my mother’s face pale, I know she hasn’t. But I’d known that before I asked the question. When she goes downstairs, I know it’s the last time she’ll try to push me to talk. She’s worried what will happen if she does.

*

From the top of the stairs, I listen as she talks to the policewomen in the kitchen, fobbing them off. ‘I’m sorry. Niamh isn’t feeling well. She’s finding this incredibly traumatic – we all are. Maybe it would be better to come back another day. But I will talk to her. And I’ll let you know if I find anything out.’

‘Of course. It’s a difficult time. I understand that.’ DS May’s voice carries up the stairs. ‘You have my number. If Niamh changes her mind and wants to talk to us, give me a call.’

‘Of course.’

Even from my room, I can hear the obvious relief in my mother’s voice. There’s a further murmur of voices before the back door opens and closes, followed by the sound of a car starting and then driving away. I hear my mother’s footsteps as she comes back upstairs.

Pushing my door open, her face is anxious as she pauses in the doorway. ‘Are you OK, Niamh?’

I nod.

‘I know how difficult this must be.’ She hesitates. ‘It’s difficult for all of us. All that matters is that the police find out what happened to Hollie.’

Silently, I gaze behind her through the window at the top of the stairs as a pair of headlights swing into the drive.

‘Your father’s back.’ My mother’s eyes shift anxiously. ‘I’ll tell him the police have been here, but it’s up to you if you want to tell him about them questioning you.’

I nod. We both know he won’t ask. He never asks me anything, but I don’t mind that. It means I don’t have to cobble together satisfying answers to his pointless questions. Silence makes everything so much easier.

Chapter Sixteen

Elise

‘Don’t bother cooking. I have to go out at seven.’ Andrew’s voice is abrupt as he comes into the kitchen, dropping his bag by the table before putting the kettle on. ‘I won’t have time to eat.’