‘Is it one of the children ... Esme ...’ At a nod from the sergeant, Roy beckoned John towards an interview room further down the corridor. ‘Come in here, John, and I’ll explain.’ Roy opened the door on a cubicle that stank of cheap disinfectant mixed with other odours that didn’t bear thinking about. Deliberately slowing his pace to accommodate John, Roy still had to wait for him after pulling two upright utility chairs from under a steel table. ‘Please, who is it?’ Roy waited for John to sit, then took the chair opposite. ‘There was a fracas down the Pier. Helen’s dress was ripped. Two boys had a bit of a punch-up, probably over her, but it looks like neither she nor them are hurt – not seriously,’ he amended, remembering the blood on Larry’s face and Jack’s suit. ‘But one of the boys has been taken to hospital and we’ve sent for the doctor to check out Helen and the other one to be on the safe side.’ ‘If Helen’s hurt or upset, Esme should be here.’ ‘Do you know where she is?’ ‘The theatre.’ ‘We sent someone down there; it’s locked.’ ‘There’s probably an end-of-run party.
