‘Who is it?’ she heard Clement call from somewhere in the hall beyond.

‘Not sure, Dad. It seems to be the police. Hope you haven’t been misbehaving,’ the young man said teasingly, but still regarded Trudy without any particular benevolence.

‘Who?’

Trudy, who was already turning away, swung back as she heard her friend’s voice calling her. Clement’s face had appeared over one of his son’s shoulders and he was now smiling widely in welcome. ‘Trudy? My dear girl, come in out of the cold. I was just about to make some cocoa,’ he lied. He never drank the stuff, and Vincent, who clearly knew it too, shot him a quick look of puzzlement. ‘This ill-mannered oaf is my son Vincent,’ he added mildly.

Trudy saw the younger man shoot her a slightly shame-faced look.

‘Oh, no, it’s all right. I have to …’ she began, still eyeing Vincent nervously. By now, she’d worked out why he was being so antagonistic of course. The family members of public servants must get used to protecting them from intrusion and unwarranted calls on their time. The children of GPs, she suspected, learned at an early age how to sort the wheat from the chaff when it came to out-of-hours callers.

‘I won’t take no for an answer. Come on in,’ Clement said firmly, more order than suggestion, and Vincent hesitated only a moment longer before reluctantly stepping aside, opening the door wider to admit her.

‘Well, just for a moment then,’ Trudy said uncomfortably. Why hadn’t she realised that the coroner would probably have family in residence? It was the holiday season after all. She was just so used to thinking of him being alone in the world, she supposed.

‘Happy New Year,’ she said, flicking her gaze between Clement and his son.

Trudy knew little about the coroner’s private life; only really the basic facts that he’d been a widower for some time, and had a son and daughter – twins – who had long since grown up and moved away from the city.

‘Happy New Year to you too,’ Clement responded, ushering her ahead and leading the way to the kitchen. There he went straight to the refrigerator where he extracted a milk bottle and began to pour some milk into a pan. ‘Vincent, you want some?’ Clement asked his son, who stood leaning against one side of the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching them.

‘No thanks,’ he said quietly.

‘Sit down, Trudy,’ Clement said as he noticed that his young friend was hovering uncertainly by the kitchen table.