‘That would explain his dislike.’ The older I got, the less energy I had to fight battles when I didn’t even realise I had entered the arena. I swung the car into a bay reserved for police, right near the hospital entrance just as the rain started again. Leaving the cold of the outside, we entered the warm foyer. A volunteer in a pink cardigan told us where we could find Meg.

The small room contained one hospital bed with a chest of drawers on one side and a vinyl armchair the colour of earwax on the other. Trish Mulligan occupied the chair, looking like she hadn’t slept since her daughter was brought in. Meg herself was sitting up in the bed. Her facial bruises had deepened, and her hair was bunched to the back to accommodate the bandage wrapped around her head. Despite her injuries, Meg’s face lit up when she saw us.

‘You’re the ones who found me yesterday!’ she said. ‘Thank you so much!’

Wozza looked embarrassed. ‘Just part of the job, Meg,’ he told her, but there was a tiny crack in his voice that said it was much more than that.

I looked at her closely. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m on a bunch of drugs that stop me from feeling much,’ said Meg, ‘so I guess that means I’m feeling better.’

‘Meg,’ admonished Trish, looking fondly at her daughter.

‘Relax, Mum,’ Meg said. ‘I promise I won’t become addicted to whatever that is.’ She nodded towards the drip.

‘Meg, we need to talk to you about what you remember from your birthday night,’ said Wozza. ‘Do you feel up to it?’ ‘She wants to help,’ said Trish, ‘but don’t tire her out.’ She stood up, groaning like her muscles had seized up.

‘You can stay if you want,’ I said.

‘I want Meg to talk to you openly,’ said Trish. ‘That’s not always possible when your mum is sitting next to you. I’m going to dash home and have a quick shower and a bite to eat.’ She turned to her daughter and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

Meg smiled, then winced and touched her cheek gingerly. The smile had hurt. She watched her mother leave then turned her attention to us.

I sat down in the chair vacated by Trish Mulligan. It was warm. I opened my police notebook. ‘I’m glad you’re okay to answer some questions,’ I said in a soft voice. I glanced at the door of the hospital ward, and Wozza took the hint and walked over to close it.

Meg moved uncomfortably to shift her position. ‘This is going to hurt like hell when those drugs wear off,’ she said ruefully. I put my phone on Meg’s tea tray to record the conversation. ‘What do you remember about Thursday night?’