I stepped forward and introduced myself, flashing my badge at the same time.

The principal looked at me dismissively, then spoke to Wozza. ‘I’m Duncan Edwards,’ he said, holding out his hand. Wozza shook it.

‘We need to speak to you,’ I said.

He nodded, poker-faced. I watched him closely. At this early stage in the investigation, any male in Meg Mulligan’s sphere needed to be looked at. A school principal was no exception.

‘Come into my office.’

We all followed him to an office next to the boardroom. It was twice as big as Margaret’s. Duncan Edwards took the power position on the business side of the desk while we were relegated to less grand chairs on the visitor side. I remained standing.

I pulled no punches. ‘Meg Mulligan was attacked last night while she was out celebrating her eighteenth birthday with some friends—girls from this school. We are going to need to talk to them to establish their movements.’

‘I will need to be present—’ said Duncan Edwards at the exact same moment Margaret gasped, ‘Is Meg okay?’

‘She’s at the hospital,’ I said.

Margaret gave a strangled cry. ‘Oh God!’

‘We don’t know the extent of her injuries, but she’s in good hands,’ I said. ‘We need to speak to the girls she was with last night.’ I flicked open my notebook and read the three names: ‘Rachel, Jess, Anna. And Nathan Forester,’ I added.

Margaret stood straight away. ‘They’re friends of hers. I know who they are.’ She left the office to locate the students.

Duncan Edwards stood up, stretched to full height. ‘I’m going to have to insist that I am present during your meeting with these students,’ he said.

I’d already taken his measure. Officious. Pompous. Bullish. And in this small school world, he would be used to getting his own way.

‘I appreciate that you want to be there for the students’—an overly generous interpretation of his request, I thought—‘but they are eighteen, which means they’re adults. Your presence won’t be required.’

‘But—’

‘Can you point us to a room we could use?’ asked Wozza, getting up from his chair.

I watched Duncan Edwards carefully. He did not look happy, but he also looked like a man who wouldn’t touch a battle he couldn’t win with a ten-foot pole. Without a word, he came out from behind his desk and walked past me and Wozza. I got a waft of Old Spice aftershave as he passed.