Like This, for Ever

alone,’ said Richmond. ‘Both West and Hindley were luring victims for their partners. And sex was a motive.’
    ‘Not with Allitt, though,’ said Dana, thinking that if Anderson could go out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give him a bit of support. ‘Allitt’s motives were altogether more complex. With her it was all about the power, being needed, being important.’
    ‘There are plenty of precedents for women killing their own children,’ said Mizon. ‘Though that’s often a result of post-natal depression.’
    ‘What about a woman who’s lost her own child?’ said Dana. ‘I can soon produce a list of nine-, ten- and eleven-year-old boys who died in London in recent years.’ Very soon, actually – it had been sitting on her desk since noon the previous day. ‘Neil, do you want to take a look at it when it’s ready? See if anything stands out?’
    Anderson nodded, not quite meeting her eye.
    ‘OK, thanks everyone. Neil, can I have a word, please?’
    Anderson stood up, and followed Dana out of the room. She walked several yards down the corridor, then stopped and turned. He stopped, too.
    ‘Ma’am, it’s an idea and I thought it needed airing,’ he said. ‘If it turns out it’s a duff one, I’ll be the one to look daft and that’s never bothered me in the past.’
    He was right, of course, she should have said something herself. She was just frightened of what it might have revealed about her.
    She forced herself to smile. ‘And if it turns out to be spot on, you’ll share the glory?’
    ‘Nope. I’ll graciously accept my promotion to DI and then I won’t have to call you Ma’am any more.’
    ‘You don’t have to call me Ma’am now.’
    ‘We all need something to aspire to, Ma’am.’

25
    ‘DAD, CAN I go into the attic?’
    His dad looked up from the ironing. ‘What for?’
    Barney had planned for this. ‘Sam’s younger brother is into Lego,’ he said. ‘I don’t play with mine any more, so I thought I’d let him have it.’
    His dad looked surprised but pleased. He was always nagging Barney that they had too many toys and that he really should give some of them away, especially stuff he hadn’t played with in years.
    ‘You be careful near the hatch.’
    Barney agreed that he would and left the kitchen. On the way out, he had to move the laundry basket because it was half blocking the doorway. Three loads of washing had already been done, the fourth was in the machine. The first load had dried while they’d been at football, and Barney had folded and piled everything up according to colour and pattern. Plain, darker colours at the bottom, brighter colours next, and stripes and whites at the top. His dad had long since given up asking what would happen if he ironed the dark stuff first, he just got on with the ironing in the order Barney gave it to him.
    As Barney climbed the stairs, he realized the striped sheets his dad had washed the day before hadn’t been in the ironing pile.
    He found the Lego quickly, and put it next to the hatch so thatwhen his dad came looking for him he’d be able to claim he’d just that minute found it. Then he started looking for photographs. Barney knew he was going back seven years, at least. That meant starting towards the back.
    The attic was in the roof space of the house, low ceilinged, with exposed beams criss-crossing the space. Barney made his way round cardboard boxes and plastic crates, past an old bookcase full of paperbacks no one could ever possibly read again, they were so completely covered in dust and cobwebs and insect husks. By the time he reached the far wall, there were cobwebs in his hair and dust in his throat and his eyes were stinging. This was the place, though. The boxes were cardboard and looked damp in places. He pulled open the first and took a ball of old newspaper off the top, flattening it out until he could read the date: 20 December, six years earlier. The box was full of old china, nestling safely down in newspaper. The next one he opened contained old textbooks of his father’s. Next box – toddler clothes. Barney’s heart started to beat faster. Dads didn’t save baby clothes. That was definitely the sort of thing mums did. His mum had packed this box. Next box – baby books. She’d saved his books and his clothes. Some time when she’d lived in this house, his ultra-tidy mum had hoarded away things she’d never use again, because she couldn’t bear to throw them