Liz ignored this. "Are you the husband?"

"I'm her next-door neighbour George Armitage." He nodded at the woman with the baby. "And that's my wife."

Liz addressed the mother. "What's your name, love?"

It was Mrs. Armitage who answered her. "Lily Lily Turner. She's in a bit of a state, I'm afraid."

"Is there a husband?"

"Well there's a father. Not sure if he's actually her husband, if you follow my meaning." She lowered her voice. "He's inside… doing eighteen months stealing radios from cars."

Liz gently touched the mother's arm. "Lily, I'm from the police. Can you tell me what happened?"

The mother's only response was to moan louder.

Liz turned to the other woman. "Perhaps you can tell me what happened, Mrs. Armitage."

"Half a mo." She gently laid the boy down in the cot and pulled the bedclothes over him, careful to avoid touching the injured arm with its strip of pink plaster. There were tiny flecks of blood on the sheet. "Lily was in the other room watching- telly when she heard little Tommy crying. When she tried to get to him, she couldn't get the door open."

"The bastard had jammed that chair under the door handle," said the man, pointing to the chair the mother was sitting on. Liz made a mental note to ensure it was fingerprinted, and nodded for the woman to continue.

"The kiddy was screaming and she could hear someone moving about. She thought it was burglars. Anyway, she came running in to us and George went straight back with her and managed to kick the door open."

"Let me tell it now," said the man. "I kicked the door open. That window was wide open with the wind roaring in. I nipped across and looked out, but there was no sign of him. The kid was crying fit to bust, so she picked him up and then she spotted the blood and next she was yelling and screaming louder than the bleeding kid. I got my wife to phone the police and the doctor. The rest you know."