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‘Have you?’
‘Yes. And Shay Given too. Would you like it?’
‘Don’t you want it?’ She frowned.
He slowly looked her up and down. ‘I think you’re a bigger fan than I am. You should have it. Call it a birthday gift from me.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but Mum and Dad have always told me not to accept anything from strangers.’
‘Very wise. Look, see that white van over there?’ He pointed to a dirty white van parked in front of the hairdresser’s a few car lengths away. ‘That’s mine. The programme is in there. I can give it to you now, and you can be on your way home.’
Stephanie hesitated.
‘It’ll probably end up getting torn and ruined and thrown in the bin, which is a shame when you think about it.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’ll only take a couple of minutes. I’ve also got some cushioned plasters that might help your ankles as well.’ He headed off towards the van. He stopped after a few steps and turned back. ‘Are you coming?’
Stephanie frowned as she considered what to do. She really shouldn’t, but a programme signed by Alan Shearer and Shay Given would be immense. Her father would love it.
‘Okay,’ she said and followed him.
Part I
THE AFTERMATH
Chapter One
Monday, 7 January 2019
Ryton, Tyne and Wear
‘Who the bloody hell is ringing me at this time of night?’
I turned on the bedside light and squinted. It was like having a searchlight shone in my face. I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was that it was still dark, and I should be in dreamland. I couldn’t focus on the display of my phone, but it wasn’t somebody’s name, just a series of random numbers. If this was some knob from a call centre on the other side of the world, I would not be happy.
‘Yes?’ I answered. I’m not a morning person. Even when it’s actual morning and time to get up for work. I like my bed, and I like my sleep.
‘Dawn Shepherd?’
Oh God, it was someone from a call centre. I could hear the sounds of an open-plan office in the background.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you know a woman by the name of Rita Shepherd?’
Okay, now they had my attention. Suddenly, I was wide awake.
‘Yes, she’s my mother. Who is this?’
‘My name is Suzanne Hardy. I’m a constable with Northumbria Police.’
‘Police? What’s happened?’ A phone call in the middle of the night is never good news. But when the call is from a police officer, it can only mean one thing. Oh my God, please don’t let Mum be dead. She’s the only relative I’ve got left.
‘A woman was found attempting to break into a shop in the shopping precinct in Blaydon. We arrested her for drunk and disorderly. She gave us the name of Rita Shepherd and your contact details.’
‘What? That can’t be right. My mother doesn’t drink. Are you sure it’s my mum?’
‘Five foot two inches tall, slim, about seven stone, dark brown shoulder-length hair, a tattoo on the inside of her left arm with a date, the fifth of November 1998.’
‘That’s my date of birth.’
