Every light is on in the house and there’s a smell of something freshly baked. Now that’s unusual. That must be Ellen’s cupcakes. I’m just surprised she was able to find the ingredients in my kitchen. Lately with all the running and racing it’s like old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. Bare.

Amber is in the kitchen with myself and Tom when Tom’s phone rings.

‘It’s the cops,’ he says, looking at the number before accepting it.

Amber and I move over to where Tom is standing but he waves us away, turning his back to us like our silent presence is distracting him from hearing the voice on the far end. A minute passes, Tom nodding and saying ye, ye, okay, right, tomorrow at ten. He ends the call then turns to update us.

‘Well, what did they want?’

‘They have her.’

‘What?’ Amber pulls out a chair and sits without moving her eyes off Tom.

‘She handed herself in this afternoon and they are questioning her.’

‘Does that mean I can go to the party?’ Amber says but Tom ignores her.

‘We’ve to bring Kenny to the station in the morning, they want to speak to him.’

‘What about?’ I say.

‘They didn’t say, Sally, they’re hardly going to tell me over the phone.’ His tone is dismissive, his face creased with stress.

‘But I can go to the party… Yes?’

‘Yes, Amber you can go to the party.’

With little else bothering her, Amber gets up from the chair and hurries out of the room. Clothes, make-up, false tan, the new priority. I’m happy to see her focus shift back to the normal worries a fifteen-year-old girl going to a party should have.

‘I wonder what they want to talk to Kenny about?’ Inhaling their warm smell, I lift the buns cooling on the rack from the table and put them on a plate by the sink.

‘So do I.’ Tom’s voice is low and worried. ‘She wouldn’t say anything directly but she’s adamant she speaks to him in the morning. I get the impression she thinks Kenny might be hiding something.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Tom, what is going on?’

‘I haven’t a clue, Sal, we’ll know more in the morning.’

‘I’m not going.’

Tom is walking towards the door and stops to look at me. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s Friday, I promised Megan I’d be in work so I’m going into work.’

‘But…’

‘But nothing, Tom, I’m not letting the girls down again, I’ve had to leave the salon early, take days off, this is your mess you can bring him.’

With my colours nailed to the mast, I push past Tom and leave the room. My job is important to me, my clients are important to me and I’m not letting this mess get in the way anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Seven