‘Well,’ I say gently, ‘let’s start with what you do remember. You were at Ellie’s house and you left – is that right?’
Margo nods.
‘And you left to come home, is that right?’
‘I missed you.’ She sounds apologetic.
‘Aw, sweetie, I missed you, too. I’m here now. I’m just trying to work out where you were. You went the wrong way, you see. To get to Crooked Oak Cottage, you needed to leave the village and take the road alongside the river, but this morning, Mrs Knoll found you in her summerhouse.’
Daniel throws me a sharp look. He’s about to say something, but I give him a quick shake of my head.
‘The Knolls’ place is in the other direction,’ I continue. ‘You go into the village and then up the big hill.’
‘They said I could use one of their bikes. It would be quicker.’
‘Who did, honey? Who said you could use their bicycle?’
‘Jordan and Jasper.’
I clasp my hands together on my lap. Little pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, but not the main pieces. I still can’t see the whole picture. But I should have known those boys had something to do with it when Ash mentioned Yvonne.
‘OK, so you went with them to their house to get the bike. Is that it?’
‘I was thirsty. But they said not to tell you.’
‘Not to tell us what, Margo? Don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble. You must tell us everything you remember. What didn’t they want you to say?’
Margo’s eyelids close, as if they’re too heavy to keep open, and for a few seconds, I think she’s gone back to sleep. But then, without opening her eyes, she says, ‘It was Red Bull.’
‘They gave you Red Bull to drink?’
But this time she doesn’t answer. Is it possible she had a can of drink with Jordan and Jasper Knoll, then fell asleep in the summerhouse? Maybe the boys left her there and Yvonne found her this morning. It sounds like a reasonable explanation, a harmless one, but the knot in my stomach has tightened, not loosened. There’s more to it than that, I’m sure of it.
Iris leans towards me, puts her hand on my arm and says into my ear, ‘Mum, you should get her blood tested for roofies.’
‘What?’ I glance at Daniel, but he doesn’t appear to be listening in on our whispered conversation. He has worry etched all over his face.
‘Rohypnol. It’s a drug.’
Panic wraps itself around my throat, threatening to cut off my air supply. Rohypnol. The date-rape drug. ‘I know what it is, Iris,’ I say, ‘but Margo’s only eleven.’
‘Mum, someone I know was given Rohypnol,’ she says. ‘There’s a lot of it around, even out where we live in the middle of nowhere. I just think maybe we should check.’
Iris is right. I don’t know all the symptoms or side effects, but I do know amnesia is on the list. And I’m almost certain lethargy is on there, too. And headaches. Oh, God. Do I need to ask for Margo to be examined for sexual assault, too?
I beckon to Iris to come with me to find a nurse or a doctor. I’m hoping someone will allay my fears. We find a nurse, who looks rushed off her feet. I ask if we can speak to the ward sister.
The ward sister turns out to be a young man and I realize I have no idea what the male equivalent is, to my shame. Head nurse? Nursing officer?
‘We usually do a urine test, not a blood test,’ he says. ‘Flunitrazepam is detectable for longer in the urine than in the blood.’
‘We should wake Margo up,’ Iris says, chewing her lower lip. ‘We can’t wait for her to wake up. It might be too late.’
I know what she’s thinking. The drug doesn’t stay in the system for long. The head nurse fetches me a plastic pot and asks if I need help.
‘My elder daughter will help me,’ I say and Iris nods.
‘Have you … Should we … How would we go about checking for signs of sexual assault?’ I ask him.
