‘What then? Is something else worrying you?’

She hesitated, then nodded. ‘If she hasn’t gone with Stefan…’

‘Yes? Is there another possibility?’

‘I keep thinking… It makes me sick, thinking of it…’

‘What?’

‘But it couldn’t be that, could it?’

‘Mrs Vlasich, Alison, look, sit down. What’s the matter? What do you mean?’

Alison sank into a chair, keeping her eyes fixed on the other woman’s face. ‘She has a job, at Silvermeadow.’

‘Oh yes? What kind of job?’

‘A waitress. In the food court. Only a few hours a week.’

‘And was she due to work there this week?’

‘Not till the weekend. I checked. I phoned them.’

‘Well then?’

‘There are stories. About Silvermeadow…’

‘Ah.’ Miriam Sangster nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve heard the stories, Alison. But that’s all they are, just stories. We get that sort of thing from time to time. A rumour starts somehow, and then it goes round for a while until people get bored with it.’

‘But how can you be sure? People seem so, so… certain.’ She was becoming quite agitated, tugging at the sleeve of the blouse.

‘I’m sure because I checked it myself, Alison, on the computer. There have never been any disappearances from Silvermeadow. It’s just one of those fairy-tales that goes round, without any substance at all.’

‘You’re sure? You’re quite sure?’ She frowned intently at the policewoman, wanting to believe her.

‘Where did you hear the stories, Alison? At the hospital?’

‘Yes. And the hairdresser’s.’

‘Ah.’

‘But everyone seems so certain. One of the nurses told one of the cooks. She’d looked after an old woman in the geriatric ward, just before she died, who said her little girl was one of the missing.’

‘An old woman in the geriatric ward thought she had a little girl?’