‘No probs.’ Amber sits in the passenger seat.

‘She asked me to babysit again.’

‘Well, that’s great, it’s good money too.’

‘It’s slave labour but I’ve no choice, you won’t let me get a proper job.’

‘I’m not going through this again, Amber. You’re too young, you’ll be working all your life, you don’t…’ The headphones are already in place, her head nodding to the beat of some coked-up rapper.

The engine purrs. In the mirror I see Tom putting the boys into the back of his car. To look at the man, you would not believe he had a care in the world. He’s laughing at something one of the boys has said or done. The suit on his back impeccably crisp, the shirt snow white. Shaved and polished he sits in the front of the car and waves at me like there’s nothing going on. Like our whole world is not about to be crushed by his past. I wave back.

Chapter Eighteen

Time of death, Sunday afternoon. Place of death, the kitchen. The woman lived with her son in the Sycamore estate. Apparently she was killed with a knife, stabbed in the heart and left bleeding to death. Everyone in the salon is talking about it.

Amy is like the ‘go to’ person for information on the murder, following the news like she committed it.

‘I don’t know, I think’s it’s cause she’s the same age as me ma.’

Anna tells her she’s a weirdo, which is strange to hear. Anna is usually the one we refer to as the weirdo. White make-up, black clothes and dark eyes all warning us to keep our distance.

‘It’s just fascinating; are you not fascinated by it, Sal?’

More than you fucking know.

‘Not really, Amy.’

‘They found the kid’s da.’ Her fingers are sliding through the latest comments on social media.

My heart skips a beat. ‘Did they name him?’

‘Nnnnope… I bet he killed her… Oh look, there’s a picture on Facebook of the dead woman.’ Blood rushes to my head. I have to see it.

‘Where?’ Moving to Amy’s side I take her phone to have a look. The woman is smiling. Oh my God, I can’t believe this woman was murdered. She looks completely harmless. Her hair is brown, hanging down both sides of her face like curtains. She’s older than I imagined… but then I’m still picturing a girl in Copper’s nightclub. I wonder what Tom saw in her back then, when she was young and beautiful, before time and raising a child on her own added those wrinkles to her face.

Lifting my eyes from the screen to the mirror in front of me I consider how my own face has changed, aged, when Sienna bursts into the room.

‘Sal, there’s someone on the phone for you.’