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lot of the girls start young and then leave young to have their own babies, or move to other settings.’
    ‘Have Kam and Leanne worked for you before?’ Mariner was wondering about an inside job.
    ‘They’ve worked in the nursery but not in the crèche, so they’re not so familiar with the procedures in there. But it’s a reliable agency. They’ve supplied us for years.’
    ‘And they’re the only people to have been in that room this afternoon?’
    ‘Apart from the parents who have already been to collect their children. The hours vary but the girls will be able to tell you more.’ She was fidgety now, wanting them to move on before her efficiency was further called into question.
    ‘Right,’ Mariner said. ‘We need to speak to them.’
    ‘They’ve still got children down there. Is it all right if you talk to them in the room?’
    It wasn’t ideal. In the best circumstances Mariner would have wanted to interview the girls separately and in the proper conditions, to get witness statements that would be admissible in court if ever it came to that, but they would have to make the best of it with preliminary interviews.
    ‘I don’t see why not.’ It was a decision Mariner would regret within minutes. Outside the confines of the office they crossed the hall, following it round alongside the staircase to a room at the back of the building. Samantha hesitated outside the door.
    ‘Can you be gentle with them? Leanne especially, well, she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you know what I mean.’
    ‘And she’s responsible for looking after young children?’
    Samantha shrugged. ‘There probably wasn’t much else in the way of career options.’ This afternoon was becoming a revelation. Allowing Mariner to absorb that fact of life, Samantha pushed open a door panelled with safety glass on to a twelve by fifteen playroom, children’s art work on the walls and the partially carpeted floor littered with fluorescent plastic toys. An alcove off to the left opened into a bathroom with fixtures and fittings in miniature. Going in, Mariner and Knox had to dodge a path through painted paper leaves that dangled from the ceiling. A baby lay on the carpet happily batting at an arc of dangling rattles, but what first assaulted Mariner’s senses was the high-decibel wailing of the second small child, which seemed to reverberate back at them off the walls. The two young women in the room seemed oblivious, engaged as they were in half-heartedly tidying up, picking up toys from the floor and tossing them into plastic crates.
    ‘This is Leanne and Kam,’ Samantha said, by way of a crude introduction, raising her voice above the sound of the screaming baby. The women looked up at mention of their names. ‘These are the police. They need to talk to you.’
    Samantha had referred to them as girls and that was exactly right. They looked barely old enough to look after themselves let alone other people’s children. And both of them looked decidedly wary of their visitors.
    ‘What about the third girl?’ Mariner asked.
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘You mentioned a third girl, Christie?’
    ‘Oh she’s upstairs in the toddler room with one of the older children. She wasn’t here when—’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘Do you mind?’ Kam pushed wide, heavy-framed glasses up her nose and gestured towards the bawling infant, who up until now had been summarily ignored.
    ‘No, please do,’ said Mariner; anything to stop the awful racket. A pang of anxiety tweaked at him as he thought of what could be to come. He’d only been in here half a minute and already it was getting on his nerves. But maybe it was different when it was your own child. He hoped so. He watched as Kam eased the child out of its bobbing canvas seat and, grabbing a tissue, expertly wiped away the snot and tears in one stroke. The yelling diminished to a whimper, but the baby’s face remained contorted with displeasure. Tony Knox stepped forward and offered a finger,