Laurel gave her a final hug. ‘Just don’t expect me to keep secrets from your mum in future. This is a once-only deal because of exceptional circumstances, and purely for her benefit.’

They drove to Bettsbrough after a breakfast Daisy had largely pushed around her plate. Once in Laurel’s passenger seat, her tapping toes and clenched hands indicated her tension. Yesterday, Laurel had been lulled into unconsciously downgrading Daisy’s crisis, though she’d known a conversation with Mr Williams lay ahead. Now, as she left behind the last of the lampposts bedecked with Christmas lights, she knew she was not going to allow her niece to be intimidated for another moment.

They parked a street away from Sir John Browne Academy. The dashboard clock showed eight-fifteen. Laurel said, ‘School starts at eight-thirty, right? Let’s hang on a few minutes.’ She didn’t want Daisy’s pallor or the presence of an adult to alert Scarlett and Octavia to what was heading their way. Students straggled past on foot, coats above black trousers or skirts, backpacks over shoulders.

When ten minutes had passed Laurel said brightly, ‘Right, let’s go.’ They left the car and walked together to the next street and up to the square-built green school buildings, through the gate in the black metal railings to a door signposted ‘Reception’.

‘When we came to this school, this was the entrance to the new block.’ Laurel hoped her chatter would distract Daisy. ‘But it can’t be the new block now because there’s a newer block.’

Daisy made no reply.

They followed an arrow along a broad white corridor to where a woman sat at a glass partition, presently open so she could deal with a parent demanding an instant search of the school for his son’s training shoes. ‘Forty bloody quid, even off the market,’ he grumbled. ‘Within a week some tea leaf’s had them off him.’

The woman, whose name badge read ‘Mrs E Jordan’, informed the disgruntled man of lost property protocol and dispatched him. Then she smiled at Laurel and Daisy and said, ‘Hello. How can I help you?’

Laurel introduced herself and explained her relationship to Daisy. ‘As my sister’s unable to come to school I’m Daisy’s second contact. I have immediate concerns about bullying. Her form teacher is Mr Williams.’

Mrs Jordan smiled again. ‘You didn’t need to come into school, Miss Hill. You can make an appointment by phone or through Daisy’s student planner or parent portal.’ She turned her smile on Daisy. ‘You won’t have registered for first lesson, will you? What is it? I’ll let the teacher know where you are.’ In the office behind her, a younger woman worked at a keyboard. A person was doing something to one side, a man, judging from the grey jacket sleeve and one black shoe Laurel could see.

‘Miss McLaren, art,’ Daisy murmured.