Sarah interrupts. ‘I don’t see Amber much anymore, so I just thought she didn’t want to come.’

‘What do you mean you don’t see Amber, she’s always over at your house.’ As the words leave my mouth, the truth hits me, I’m wrong, Amber has been lying.

Sarah mumbles something else but I can’t hear. Her mother tells her to look at me and speak more clearly.

‘She often sends me texts, asking me to pretend she was with me but she isn’t. She goes to meet him.’

‘Who’s him?’ I say, thinking Amber must have a secret boyfriend. Maybe she’s with him now, maybe she’ll arrive home any minute pretending she was at the party.

Sarah turns her head slowly, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. Removing her hand from the pocket of her dressing gown, she points towards the sofa. At Kenny.

Chapter Forty-Two

The room falls silent. Everyone is looking at Kenny. My head drills with pain, my mind begging my body to stand strong, do not fall to the ground. Kenny lifts his eyes and looks at me.

‘What? … What is she talking about, Kenny? … Meeting you? When did Amber meet you?’ I’ve moved without realizing it and I’m now standing in front of the boy, staring down at this little shit who has made my daughter lie to me.

‘Tell me, Kenny, this is too important for lies. Amber is fucking missing, we don’t know where she is. She could be in danger.’

‘I met her a few times.’ The mumble barely disturbs the air but it disturbs my anger.

Leaning forward I pull on the shoulders of his T-shirt. ‘Where is she, Kenny?’ I shout. Tom is beside me now, pulling me away from the boy.

‘Sal, relax, Kenny doesn’t know where she is.’ My hand moves without my consent, slapping Tom across the face. ‘This is all your fault.’

Burke has moved over to the sofa next to Kenny. ‘Kenny, when did you start meeting up with Amber?’ His face stays in position but his eyes travel up to meet mine. He’s afraid I’m going to jump on him again. He should be. My eyes are fixed on his lips, eager to get the truth. What has been going on behind my back?

‘Probably about two months ago,’ he says, coughing slightly to clear his voice.

‘And how did you meet with Amber? I presume it was you who contacted her.’

‘Of course it was him,’ I say, not giving him the chance to invent some story.

‘Sorry, Sal,’ she says, ‘I need you to stay quiet.’

His eyes glance to check on me. ‘Yes, it was me, Facebook.’