‘Only if I’m present,’ insisted Quinn, annoyed that he’d been caught lying.

‘You and your wife are most welcome to sit in on the discussion, sir.’ He smiled at Maureen and indicated his companion. ‘This is Inspector Marmion who’s in charge of the investigation. He was keen to meet you face-to-face.’

‘Good evening,’ said Marmion, removing his hat. ‘I’m sorry that it’s rather late to be calling but this is in the nature of an emergency.’

Quinn grudgingly invited the detectives in, took them into the living room and asked his wife and younger daughter to leave. He and Maureen then sat together on the settee opposite their visitors. Arm around his daughter, Quinn adopted a protective pose and glared at them. The detectives could see that he might be a problem. Marmion turned to Maureen, perched nervously on the edge of her seat.

‘We’ve just come from Agnes Collier’s house,’ he explained. ‘Her mother is now aware of the tragic events at the Golden Goose. She bore up surprisingly well.’

‘Sadie Radcliffe is a tough character,’ said Quinn.

‘So is your daughter, from what I hear.’

‘She’s been brought up proper, Inspector. We don’t mollycoddle children.’

Maureen eyed them anxiously. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well,’ said Keedy, taking his cue, ‘we’d really like a bit more detail about the other people at the party. Essentially, all that you told me earlier were their names and addresses. Because you were in such a delicate state, I didn’t want to press you too hard. But the inspector feels that we can’t leave without some indication of the sorts of people your friends were. We know a little about Agnes Collier, of course, from her mother — but what about the others?’

‘For instance,’ said Marmion, ‘tell us about Florrie Duncan. I understand that it was her birthday. How old was she?’

‘Twenty-nine,’ replied Maureen. ‘She was the oldest of us.’

‘What about you?’

‘I was the youngest.’

‘I spoke on the phone to Mr Kennett, the works manager’ said Keedy. ‘He was horrified at the turn of events. The one name that he recognised was Florrie Duncan. He described her as the kind of person who’d make an impression anywhere.’

‘That’s true,’ agreed Maureen, brightening a little. ‘She was always so full of life. Florrie looked out for us. If there was ever any trouble at work, she’d always step in and help.’

‘What kind of trouble?’ asked Quinn, bristling.

‘Oh, it was nothing serious, Daddy. It’s just that some of the men-’

‘Did they pester you, Maureen? You should have told me. I’d have put a stop to that right away. I won’t let anyone hassle my daughter.’

‘Florrie kept an eye on me,’ said Maureen. ‘She could see off anyone. And if some of the managers got too bossy, she’d stand up to them. Nobody pushed Florrie Duncan around.’

Marmion was interested. ‘Were you in the National Federation of Women?’

‘Yes, Inspector — Florrie made us join even though trade union activity was banned at the factory.’

‘Now that’s something I don’t agree with,’ Quinn interjected. ‘I mean, it’s bad enough making women work in a place like that until they turn bright yellow. Getting them into a union is going too far.’

‘They’re entitled to protect themselves, Mr Quinn,’ said Keedy. ‘That’s what trade unions are for — to stop workers being exploited. Well, you must be in one yourself.’

‘No need, Sergeant — I deliver coal. Only a fool would try to exploit me. But you take my point? Trade unions for women — well, it’s just not right.’

‘Thank you,’ said Marmion, crisply, ‘your opinion is noted but it’s not really relevant. It’s Maureen we want to hear, Mr Quinn. She worked alongside these young women. She has information about that birthday party that nobody else has.’

Quinn was peevish. ‘Please yourselves.’

‘Go on telling us about Florrie Duncan,’ said Marmion, nodding at her. ‘It sounds to me as if she was a kind of mother to the rest of you.’

‘Yes, she was, Inspector,’ replied Maureen as if it was the first time that the idea had every occurred to her. ‘That’s exactly what she was. If you had a problem, you’d always turn to her. I remember when Enid — that’s Enid Jenks — was having terrible rows at home with her father. She asked Florrie for advice and things got a lot easier after that.’

The detectives let her ramble on. Now that Quinn had been silenced, his daughter was able to talk at will. Slow and hesitant at first, she became more animated, talking about her friends with a mixture of affection and sadness. The individual characters of the murder victims began to emerge. Evidently, Florrie Duncan was the dominant personality. Jean Harte was a pessimist, always fearing the worst and prone to a succession of minor ailments. Enid Jenks was a gifted violinist and had ambitions to be a professional musician until a patriotic urge had taken her into the munitions factory. Maureen was quite fluent until she reached the last of the victims. When she came to a sudden halt, Keedy had to prompt her.

‘What about Shirley Beresford?’

‘She was … very nice.’

‘Tell us a bit more about her.’

‘Yes,’ said Marmion, gently. ‘Was she single or married? What did she do before she came to work at the factory? Who were her closest friends? Did she have any hobbies? What do you remember most about her?’

It was all too much for Maureen. Having exhausted her ability to bring the women back to life, she was now overcome by the horror of their deaths. It was borne in upon her that she’d never see any of them and hear their lively banter. They’d been wiped instantaneously out of her life. Hands to her face, she burst into tears and bent forward. Her father put an arm around her and pulled out a grubby handkerchief to thrust at her. As his daughter continued to sob, he looked accusingly at the visitors.

‘Did you have to badger her like that?’ he said.

‘Your daughter has given us a lot of important information, Mr Quinn,’ said Marmion. ‘Until now, she was doing extraordinarily well. But I can see that we’ve gone as far as we can now,’ he added, getting up. ‘Thank you, Maureen.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, also on his feet now, ‘it was very brave of you. We’re sorry to intrude at such a time but you’ll appreciate that this is a criminal investigation. We need all the help we can get if we’re to bring the person who planted that bomb to justice.’

‘Make sure you catch the bastard before I do,’ growled Quinn. ‘If I get my hands on him first, there won’t be anything left for the hangman.’

In search of more comfort, Ellen and Alice Marmion had adjourned to the living room. Every so often, one of them would glance up hopefully at the clock on the mantelpiece, only to be jolted by the lateness of the hour. Ellen had been very unhappy at the notion of her daughter giving up her job as a teacher to join the Women’s Emergency Corps. While she admired the sterling work performed by the organisation, she feared — wrongly, as it turned out — that it would be filled with militant suffragettes who’d have a bad influence on Alice. She was even less pleased with her daughter’s move into the ranks of the police force, believing that law enforcement was primarily a job for men. They not only had the necessary strength and stamina, they were less likely to be shocked by some of the hideous sights they’d inevitably see and more able to cope with situations of grave danger.

From Alice’s point of view, there was one great drawback to the move. She was under the strict supervision of someone who clearly disliked her.

‘Who is she?’ asked Ellen.

‘Thelma Gale,’ said her daughter, ‘or, as she insists on being called, Inspector Gale. If you met her, you’d see why her nickname is “Gale Force”. When her temper is up, she’s like a one-woman hurricane.’

‘And she treats you badly?’

‘She treats all of us badly. Power has gone to her head.’