shrugged her shoulders and glanced over at Evi. Evi half smiled back, knowing she ought to try and rein Harry in a little. A visit from Social Services was standard procedure following any incident when police were called out and children deemed at risk. If Harry pissed this woman off, it could turn personal. Hannah Wilson might start flexing her own muscles and the Fletcher family would find themselves caught in the middle.
‘Well, we don’t know at this stage whether what the police are investigating outside had anything to do with the family here,’ said Hannah. ‘In the meantime, my sole concern is for the welfare of the children.’
‘So is mine, actually,’ interrupted Alice.
‘And you have to admit Tom’s story doesn’t quite stack up.’ The social worker looked from Harry to Alice to Evi, as if daring one of them to challenge her. ‘Tom’s face is quite badly bruised. If I understood you properly, Mrs Fletcher, he says he got it when the little girl, who was running away with his sister, kicked him.’
‘That’s what he told me,’ said Alice.
‘But from what I understand from his earlier descriptions of the girl, she doesn’t wear shoes.’
Nobody spoke. Evi dropped her eyes to the table, mentally kicking herself for not spotting that first. The kitchen door opened again. It was Tom this time, the purple bruise vivid against the pale skin over his cheekbone.
‘Mum, Millie’s spilled her juice on the sofa,’ he said. Alice sighed and started to get up.
‘I’ll do it,’ offered Evi, rising and picking up a dishcloth. ‘You finish up here, Alice. I’m sure Mrs Wilson must be nearly done by now.’
Evi followed Tom into the living room. She could hear heavy footsteps moving around upstairs and people talking in low voices. Joe was at the far end of the room, peering around the drawn curtains to see what was happening in the garden outside. Millie, looking impossibly cute in a pair of denim dungarees that had been rolled up at the ankles, waved a stick of kindling wood at her and nearly tumbled backwards into the empty fireplace. Tom rushed forwards and caught her before her head could bang against the hearth.
‘Hi, cutie pie,’ said Evi, when the toddler was safely on her feet again. The little girl appeared to have been crying. The skin around her eyes looked red and sore. ‘Where’s this sticky mess?’ Evi asked.
‘Der,’ said Millie, indicating the middle sofa. Evi found the juice and ran the damp cloth over the seat. She could feel Tom’s eyes on her.
‘How are you feeling now, Tom?’ she asked. ‘Still tired?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Who’s that woman?’ he asked. ‘Is she a doctor, like you?’
Evi shook her head. ‘No, she’s a social worker. She’s here to find out what happened last night and make sure you and Joe and Millie are OK.’
‘Do I have to talk to her?’
Evi perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Do you want to talk to her?’ she asked.
Tom thought for a moment, then shook his head.
‘Why not?’ asked Evi, noticing that Millie was watching the conversation, her gaze going from one speaker to the next as though she understood every word. Over at the window, Joe had gone quite still.
Tom shrugged again and dropped his eyes to the pile of firewood on the carpet.
Evi stared at him for several seconds, then made a decision. ‘Why have you never told me about the little girl, Tom?’ she asked. Tom’s eyes widened. ‘I know you showed me her photograph last night, but you didn’t tell me who she was.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Evi could see Joe at the window. He wasn’t peering through the gap in the curtains any more, he’d turned to look at them. ‘Is it because you think I wouldn’t believe you?’ she continued in a soft voice.
‘Would you?’ asked Tom.
‘I spend a lot of time talking to people,’ said Evi. ‘And I can usually tell when they’re lying. They give themselves away in all sorts of little ways. I’ve watched you closely when we’ve been talking, Tom, and I don’t think you’re a liar.’ She let herself smile, which really wasn’t difficult when you looked at Tom. ‘I think you’ve told me the odd little fib now and then, but most of the time you don’t lie.’ Tom was holding eye contact. ‘So if you tell me all about this little girl, and if you tell me the truth, I’ll know.’