We followed him into a small room with a round table in the middle and six chairs around it. It would do just fine. The room had a window into the corridor; I would have to make sure the girls faced inwards, not outwards; I didn’t want Duncan Edwards—or anyone for that matter—looking in and getting any inkling of what the girls were saying. As soon as the principal left us with a barely concealed huff, I arranged the chairs accordingly.

‘You made a new friend there,’ said Wozza.

I laughed. Luckily, making friends wasn’t on the top of my to-do list. ‘We’ll sit there.’ I indicated the two seats facing outwards.

Wozza looked up at the window and nodded. He understood.

Minutes later, Margaret appeared with three girls in tow. She introduced them. Jess was the taller of the trio. She had a confident look about her; long dark hair artfully tied up in a loose bun on top of her head. Rachel and Anna were a little blotchy, in that awkward stage schoolgirls go through. I remembered my own braces/pimples combo. Anna had braces. Rachel didn’t but needed them.

‘And Nathan Forester?’ Wozza asked Margaret.

‘I checked the roll. He isn’t at school today.’

I glanced at Wozza. Nathan’s absence wasn’t a good sign. In a low voice, I said to Margaret, ‘Is Nathan’s dad the lawyer in town? Frank Forester?’

A look I couldn’t read passed over her face, then a slight incline of her head told me Frank was indeed Nathan’s father.

The girls looked nervous. I thanked Margaret then pointed to the three chairs and invited them to sit.

Wozza closed the door.

Jess took the lead, as I’d suspected she might.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘I’m Senior Detective Pollard and this is Senior Detective Harvey.’ I pointed to Wozza. ‘Earlier today, we picked Meg Mulligan up from the side of the road and now she’s in hospital.’ I stopped. Watched for a reaction.

Got one.

Shock. Disbelief. Fear.

The girls looked at each other, mouths agape. Finally, Jess spoke. ‘But … she was fine at the pub …’

Wozza said, ‘Can you tell us what happened last night?’

Rachel spoke. ‘Meg broke up with Nathan Forester a couple of weeks ago, so we wanted to take her to the pub for her eighteenth so she could …’ Rachel suddenly looked embarrassed.

Jess filled the silence. ‘Maybe find someone new,’ she said with authority. ‘You have to date your way out of a broken heart.’

I noted the teen version of healing. More experienced women knew that a quick replacement only masked a broken heart. My own heart still ached after leaving Daniel. Four months later, and there was no such thing as a quick replacement when every man felt like a poor comparison to him.