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‘I bet the father’s still on the scene,’ Tessa barks. ‘Causing chaos. Probably the boy is kept up at night by his parents rowing. I’ve seen it a hundred times. The mother goes back for more abuse. It’s not our fault or obligation. Let the mother clear up her own mess.’

‘Lizzie says she hasn’t seen Tom’s father since they moved.’

Tessa puffs her chest out, triumphant. ‘She’s lying. Not our problem. If the mother is too stupid to do what’s good for her …’

‘I suppose it’spossibleshe could be seeing the father,’ I admit. ‘But when I talked to her, her objective seemed to be hiding from Olly Kinnock. Making sure he didn’t find out where she and Tom lived.’

‘She could still be lying.’

‘And whyinjectionneedle marks? There’s never been any history of drug abuse. There’s something else too – Tom had a seizure recently. I found out from the medical records.’

‘That’s serious. How was the home visit?’

‘The house was a bit chaotic, but no other alarm bells. Although the mother seemed anxious.’

‘Most people are when social services knock at the door unannounced. How long did you have with her? An hour?’

‘Half an hour. She didn’t seem like a child abuser.’

‘Child abusers rarelyseemlike child abusers. Maybe she’s tired. Fed up. Taking her frustrations out on the little boy.’

‘Logically, she’s the only person who could be hurting him. Unless something’s happening at school.’

‘What about the bullying angle?’ asks Tessa. ‘Tom goes to school with the Neilsons, doesn’t he? If he’s anywhere near Lloyd Neilson, he probably gets stabbed with sharp objects regularly.’

‘I need to track down the father,’ I say. ‘And schedule another home visit.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Tessa barks. ‘With a caseload like yours—’

I hold up a placating hand, which makes Tessa’s face flush with fury. ‘This is my decision, Tessa.’

‘If you mess up deadlines for my department, Kate, there will be hell to pay.’

‘It’s my department too, Tessa,’ I say. ‘And it’s more important that Idomy job than fill out a load of forms.’

‘What’s got into you?’ Tessa asks. ‘You used to be a proper rules-body.’

‘I’ve decided I’d rather help children than tick boxes.’

Tessa lets out a loud snort. ‘This place is about keeping your head down and covering your backside. Doing a decent job is a long way down the list.’

‘Not for me it isn’t.’ I rub tired eyes. ‘I’m making a cup of tea, do you want—’

‘Nespresso cappuccino!’ Tessa trills. She marches back to her office, shouting over her shoulder, ‘Just pop it on my desk!’

I head to the office kitchen, trying to work out how on earth I’m going to track down Tom’s father and do another home visit when my calendar is booked up for the next month.

Lizzie

The smart, navy coat? Or is that too formal? Makeup always looks heavy on my delicate features, but if I wear no makeup at all … is that not smart enough, verging on disrespectful?

Tom’s teacher agreed to meet me at 6 p.m. for a ‘talk’.

Okay. Navy coat it is. Jeans – well, it will have to be, my smart skirt is in the wash. And a plain jumper.

I grab my patchwork bag from the door hook and wave at the babysitter – a beautiful, willowy teenager called Chloe, who lives two doors down and is studying for her A levels.

I don’t like leaving Tom, but needs must.