The earlier argument might have been smoothed over, but there was now a tension of a different kind between them and he knew they were both trying their best to ignore it.

If she stayed, he wasn’t sure it would be in the spare room, so it was better if she remained sober enough to drive. Perhaps wise for him to keep a clear head too and stay focused on the Wickhams.

He watched her reaction to his question carefully, aware of the history between her and Bill.

To her credit, she didn’t give much away, her expression carefully blank, though he noticed her hand shook a little as she picked up her glass, taking a bigger sip.

‘I have, but why would he wait this long to take revenge?’

‘His mother is finally out of prison. Maybe she has asked him to help her, or it could be it has triggered something. You said the message on the card with the flowers is a phrase she used several times, so it would have been one Bill was familiar with too.’

He could tell she didn’t like the idea, which wasn’t a surprise, given that Hannah had feared Bill Wickham as much as she had his mother.

‘Has he ever tried to get in touch with you over the years?’

She shook her head. ‘No, fortunately. Do you know much about what happened to him?’

‘From what I’ve been able to find out, he managed to get on an apprenticeship on a building site after he was released from the young offenders’ institution. He moved up to Yorkshire to be closer to his mother, never settled, never married, then a couple of months before Eileen’s release, he moved back to Suffolk and rented the house in Sudbury, the one we went to.’

‘He was living there with Eileen?’

‘Technically yes. His name is on the paperwork, but he works away during the week. She was mostly there alone.’

‘And what about now? He must know where she is.’

‘He claims not. Of course he’s lying.’

‘She was horrible to him too. Why did he always take her side?’

‘Blood ties run deep. She’s still his mother, his responsibility.’

‘Do you think it could have been Bill who followed me here the other night?’

Yes, but Liam didn’t say that, going for the more diplomatic, ‘Possibly.’

He was scaring her a little and wondered if she found the idea of Bill coming after her even more frightening than Eileen. Bill had just been a kid at the time he had terrorised her. A fifteen-year-old boy. But then, Liam supposed, to a thirteen-year-old girl that age gap had probably seemed much bigger. ‘You were his favourite target.’