‘Ma, don’t kill me—’

Oh Christ, what is she going to say?

‘That was me who sent her into the salon.’

Speechless, I step closer to the bed.

‘I didn’t know what to do, Ma,’ Amber cries. ‘And… and… I wanted you to know what was going on.’ Her eyes are glued to mine, waiting for my reaction. ‘So I…’

‘It’s okay, Amber.’ I grab the duvet and wrap her in it. ‘Go asleep now.’

Out on the landing I consider what I’ve just heard. Amber sent Charlie in to alert me. God, she could have just told me instead of putting me through that nightmare. The poor thing, faced with that dilemma, she did not know to tell me. That’s my fault. But at least she wanted me to know. She cared enough.

And Joyce McCarthy, the madness of it all. Trust Tom to find the nut in the nightclub. He couldn’t have shagged someone less problematic.

Walking from Amber’s room, I check in on the boys, happy to be snoring in their own beds tonight. My body aches with tiredness. My mind aches with energy.

‘How is she?’ Tom calls up to me in a soft voice.

‘She’s asleep.’

A part of me wants to go down to question Kenny but I know I’ll make a mess of it. I’m too tired and confused. I didn’t get to ask Amber how she ended up in that apartment and not at Sarah’s party. Tomorrow, the cops will be arriving early to speak to her. I’ll find out then.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Amber wants to go to school. She’s not about to miss out on all the attention she’ll get from her new celebrity status.

‘I’ll drop you there as soon as they’ve finished,’ Tom says, taking his keys from the hook by the door.

Megan told me to take the week off work. But I don’t want to. I need to get back to some sort of routine or my mind will crumble and it will cheer me up to see Anna’s trophy on display in the front window of the salon.

Donna said she’s not getting out of bed for the day, so unless Amber is abducted again, I’m not to ring her.

The following morning, after the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, Burke arrives at the house. I’m not nervous. She’s here to talk to Amber, to find out what happened.

‘Coffee?’ God, Tom, can you not think of something else to say, it’s always coffee? The man is still a bundle of nerves. Grey face. No hair gel. He probably feels responsible for what happened to Amber. And yes, he did set the ball in motion, but he could never have anticipated how far it would roll.