‘Right, madam,’ said Skinner. ‘From the beginning. What time did you put the baby to bed?’

‘Six o’clock. He went straight off to sleep.’

‘And what time did you go to bed?’

‘Questions, bleeding questions. Just bloody well find him. They’ll blame me. They’ll say I neglected him. I’m a bloody good mother.’

‘I don’t dispute that, madam,’ said Skinner, trying to stay patient, ‘but I need some answers first. What time did you go to bed?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t study the bleeding clock. Just after ten – something like that.’

‘You heard nothing during the night?’

‘Not a sodding thing and I’m a light sleeper. The kid’s only got to cough and I’m in there like a shot. I’m a bloody good mother.’

‘So you said, madam. And what time did you go into the baby’s room this morning?’

She tried to focus bleary eyes on her wrist watch. ‘About half an hour ago. When I phoned you. As soon as I saw he was gone, I phoned.’

‘So he must have been taken some time between six o’clock yesterday evening and nine this morning?’

‘Bleeding marvellous. I could have bloody worked that out for myself.’

Skinner took a deep breath. She was beginning to get on his nerves. ‘Could I see the baby’s room now, please?’

She led them down the passage and flung open the door to a small room, barely furnished with a chair and a white painted cot. A sour smell came from a heap of discarded Pampers nappies on the floor. She kicked them under the cot. ‘I was going to tidy up but with all this bleeding upset…’ She pulled hack the curtain and daylight tried to claw its way through a dirt engrained window. The bedclothes on the cot, which looked as if they hadn’t been washed for weeks, were pulled back. The pillow, which showed the indentation of the baby’s head, was splattered with blood.

Skinner nodded grimly. This was looking nasty ‘Don’t touch anything.’ He went to the door and bellowed down the passage to Jordan, ‘Get SOCO down here now!’ Returning to the woman, he said, ‘Show me where they broke in.’