“What were you doing on Tuesday evening?”

“Me. You don’t think—”

“We need to know where everybody was,” Annie said.

“We were here, all of us. Just a normal evening in.”

“All of you being you, Lenny, Johnny and Albert?”

“Not Albert.”

“Where was he?”

“You’ll have to ask him. Probably in the pub with his mates. Paul and the others. But he wouldn’t hurt Mimosa.”

“We’re not saying he did, Sinead. We just need to know these things. Didn’t he come home that night?”

“He rarely comes home. So rarely you could hardly call it his home.”

“Where does he stay? Girlfriend?”

“He may have one, but he’s more one for the lads, is Albert. I don’t mean he’s gay or anything. Heaven forbid. He just likes his ale and a bit of pushing and shoving, you know, like lads are. He often stays at Paul’s. That’s Paul Warner. They more or less share a flat on the edge of the estate.”

“Would you say that you and Mimsy were close?” Annie began.

“Mimosa. I always called her Mimosa. Everyone else called her Mimsy, but I called her Mimosa. Some people thought it was a silly name, but I’ve always thought it’s beautiful.”

“Sorry. Mimosa. Would you say you were close?”

“I always liked to think so, but not recently, no. Not especially. Maybe when she was little, but times have been hard over the past few years, since she’s been more grown up. Things happened. I’ve let my family down. Made mistakes. I couldn’t control her lately. I never knew where she was or what she was up to.”

“You said she was secretive?”

“More so these past few months than she used to be. Yes.”

“Her father left several years ago, right?”

“That was one of the good things that happened.”

“Any idea where he is now?”

“Australia wouldn’t be far enough.”

“Is that where he is?”

“No. I’ve no idea. Haven’t seen or heard from him in more than ten years.”

“And after he left?”

“There were others. Men. I wasn’t a good mother. I made some bad choices.”

“Did any of the men bother Mimosa?”

Sinead turned away, but Annie could tell she was nodding, even with her head buried in the pillow. She touched her shoulder. “Sinead. Did anyone interfere with her?”

“One of them. Just one. I walked in on them one night, right there in her room. He was making her toss him off, the filthy bastard. She was only eight. She didn’t know what was going on, it was supposed to be a game for her, but she wasn’t happy about it. I went ballistic, threatened to call the police and everything.”

“Did you? Call the police?”

“No.”

“Why not?”