Dawson paused before knocking on the closed door.

A few seconds passed before it was opened by a girl he didn’t recognise who glowered at him and then tipped her head and smiled.

‘Is Tilly around?’ he asked.

The girl shook her head as he heard a familiar voice.

‘Jesus, you again?’

He turned to see Tilly heading towards them dressed in a towelling robe, carrying a toiletry bag and her clothes.

‘I’ve already told you, I’m too young for you so—’

‘Bloody hell, Tilly,’ he said, looking around to see if anyone was listening. Even in joke, such a comment could ruin his career.

She laughed out loud. ‘Trust me, in this place they’re all so self-absorbed that if they don’t hear their own name attached to the sentence it doesn’t even register.’

Assessing her attire he held up his hand. ‘It’s fine, I can come back.’

Even with another girl in the room there was no way he was going to talk to a teenage girl who wasn’t properly dressed.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, untying her robe.

He protested but then saw that Tilly was fully dressed in a short black skirt with black tights and a floral shirt.

‘Just didn’t want to get anything on my clothes when I do my make-up,’ she explained.

Of course. The girls were getting ready to go to the memorial service.

‘Could I have a word?’ he asked. ‘I won’t keep you long.’

‘Sure,’ she said, stepping into the room.

‘In private,’ he said, glancing at the two girls sitting on the bed.

Tilly glanced at them apologetically. They grumbled and left the room.

‘Can you leave the door open, please?’ he called after them. ‘They’re not going to the memorial?’ he asked, noting their ripped jeans and tee shirts.

Tilly shook her head. ‘Depressing enough when it was a concert but now it’s a memorial.’ She frowned. ‘Shit, that was insensitive, wasn’t it?’

‘A bit,’ he acknowledged, sitting at the end of Sadie’s bed as Tilly sat at the desk and adjusted a small mirror to the correct position.

‘So, why are you going?’ he asked. Even she’d admitted that the two of them weren’t particularly close.

‘Thorpe asked me. He wanted one of Sadie’s friends to say a few words, and I was the closest thing he could find.’

The sentiment saddened him for some reason. A thirteen-year-old girl had been so detached from her peers that it was a struggle to find anyone to mourn her death.

‘Tilly, I need to ask you something,’ he said seriously. ‘It’s confidential and sensitive, okay?’

She nodded, looking pensive.

‘I’ve heard rumours of girls from this school having illegal abortions. Do you know anything about it?’

The shake of her head was immediate and definite, but he wasn’t watching the head movement, he was watching her eyes for deceit. And he caught her unconscious glance at Sadie’s bed.

‘You’re not saying Sadie…’

‘No,’ she said, emphatically.

‘But you know something, Tilly. I know you do.’

Again, she shook her head.

‘I don’t. Honestly, I don’t. I’m just shocked. I mean, where did that come from? What makes you think someone’s had an abortion?’

‘You’re asking questions just a few seconds too late, Tilly,’ he said, knowingly.

She shook her head and licked her bottom lip while trying to hold his gaze to prove her point.

Dawson thought for a moment. This was not the confident, assured girl he had spoken to earlier in the week. This girl looked thirteen. And frightened.

‘Tilly, I know you’re scared to talk out of turn, but I need you to be honest. Someone else might be in danger, so if you know something…’

‘Cordell,’ she said, quietly, looking at the door. ‘He’s a Spade from way back. It’s common knowledge amongst the girls that he’s the one you go to if you’re in trouble; however late you are, he’ll get rid of it.’

‘Go on,’ he urged, gently.

‘Miss Wade pulled me aside one day and told me about a poem Sadie had written and asked me if I knew if she was in any kind of trouble.’

‘Did you read the poem?’ Dawson asked.

She shook her head. ‘Miss Wade had given it to someone else to look at, but she told me it was all about abortion.’

Tilly began to colour as she chewed her bottom lip.

‘Tell me everything, Tilly,’ he prompted gently.

‘I read Sadie’s diary. I was just trying to help,’ she said, guiltily. ‘I was going to tell Miss Wade anything I found, I swear. I was just making sure Sadie was okay.’

‘Have you still got her diary now?’ Dawson asked, remembering it was still missing.

‘No, I promise. I put it straight back in her backpack. I only looked once and nearly had a panic attack that she’d come in and catch me.’

‘And what did you read in there, Tilly?’ he asked.

‘Enough to put two and two together.’

‘Who had the illegal abortion?’ he asked.

‘I think you already know.’