Tears fall down my cheek and splash one by one into the sink but they’re not taking the pain with them. The warmth of Ellen’s arms wrap around my shoulders. The scent of worry and White Linen filling the air between us. I hug her back.

‘How long have you known?’ she whispers. Turning around I see her face age in front of me. Her eyelids sag over dark blue circles, freshly carved wrinkles stretch out like winged emotions. Until now, Ellen has always looked younger than her years.

‘I’ve only known a couple of days but apparently Tom has known for the last six months, at least, I don’t know for sure, I know nothing for sure. Tom has been lying to me.’

Ellen lets out a sigh before releasing her hold on me. When she walks towards the table I notice a slight stoop creeping into her gait.

‘I don’t really want to go into the details, Ellen, I’ll let Tom fill you in on all that.’ Nodding her head repeatedly she sits back down on the chair.

‘So that’s why they’re questioning Tom, Ellen, nothing else.’

Ellen nods her head again. It all makes sense now.

‘You knew nothing about this… did you?’ Her silence overpowers. Why is she not answering me? ‘Well, did you, Ellen?’

‘Sorry, Sally, what did you say? My mind is racing here, I can’t keep up with myself, I’m…’

‘Did you know anything about this, did Tom ever mention anything about this boy to you?’

‘No, Sal, of course not, Tom told me nothing about the boy.’ Moving her gaze to the table, her fingers trace the table top. ‘I would have made him tell you straight away if he had.’ I continue to look at her, waiting for her to lift her head, to see her eyes. I will go mad if he told his mother before telling me. She stands and walks to the kettle, nothing more to say.

Ellen stays while I ring the station. The woman on the other end of the phone tells me Tom is in a room talking to the detectives, helping them with their enquiries. She knows nothing else and is not the slightest bit interested in the fact that I’m his wife, sitting at home worried sick. I feel desperate. Helpless. Poor Tom stuck in that stuffy room with some stranger dragging up his past. He’s been there for almost three hours now. That’s a long time if you know nothing.

With little chance of getting any further information, I insist Ellen go home, promising to ring her as soon as I hear from Tom. I’m not in the humour for answering her questions. Though, to be fair, she hasn’t really asked any; strange, that.