Page 19 of The Guilty Girl

Lottie wondered how the girl wasn’t already awake, with her mother’s increasingly shrieking voice almost rattling the gritty window panes. It cut through Lottie’s skull.

‘I’d appreciate it if you could wake her now, please.’

Babs stretched out a foot and kicked at the mattress. ‘Hannah, wake up. There’s two detectives here to talk to you.’

The girl raised an arm over her eyes and moaned. ‘Go away.’

Another kick to the mattress and she shot upright. ‘Mam? Stop. I’m sick. My head is spinning.’

‘If you were drinking, I’ll make it spin, missy. Get up.’

Hannah squinted through her fingers with a groan.

Lottie donned a stern expression. ‘Hannah, you have to come with us for an interview.’

‘What? Where?’

‘To the garda station.’

‘What happened?’ Hannah looked pained, as though if she attempted to raise her head it might fall off.

‘We’ll discuss it there. Come on.’

‘This is a joke.’ The girl threw off the blanket and stood up in her underwear. She wobbled, putting a hand to the wall to steady herself. ‘I’m going to be sick.’

That was when Lottie noticed that her fingernails were caked with something that wasn’t a million miles from dried blood. ‘What happened to your hands?’

The girl leaned against the wall and held her hands up, then turned them over and stared at them in disbelief. ‘I don’t know.’

‘It looks like blood,’ Lottie said, wondering how quickly she could get her to the station to have them swabbed.

Babs mouth formed a massive O. ‘No way! It’s only dirt. You fell on the way home or something, didn’t you, Hannah?’

Lottie wasn’t buying the mother’s insistence. ‘Did something happen at Lucy McAllister’s party?’

Hannah shrugged, continuing to stare at her outstretched hands.

‘You need to shower. Go on, Hannah. Now!’ Babs went to pull her at daughter, but Lottie stood in her way.

‘I’ve a lot of interviews to get through this morning. You can wash later. Pull on some clothes. Babs, you can follow us.’

‘I can’t. I need someone to mind Olly.’

‘I’m sorry, but I insist on Hannah coming with us. When you have a babysitter, phone this number and I’ll send a car for you.’ Lottie handed over a card with her details.

She kept her eyes focused on Hannah. The girl grabbed jeans from the end of the mattress and tugged them on. She slipped a partially buttoned-up blue blouse on over her head and shoved her bare feet into a pair of tatty runners. The clothing had no evidence of blood and Lottie concluded she had worn a different outfit at the party.

‘Where are the clothes you wore last night?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I put them in the laundry room.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I don’t know.’

Lottie turned to Babs. ‘Where is this room?’

‘Downstairs. We share it with Krysta from the dry cleaner’s. She lives in the flat next door.’