Will pulled out one of the two chairs, and Lou took a seat.

‘It’s a bit pokey, I’m afraid,’ Will said. He puffed out a breath of air, disturbing his long fringe. ‘But at least we’re free to talk in here.’ He took a seat at the desk opposite Lou. ‘I’m cataloguing the records of an old shoe factory out by the industrial estate as part of my training. Do you know it?’

Lou nodded. Everybody knew the shoe factory. Along with the sorting office, it had been the main source of employment for the town until it closed down.

‘It’s due to be demolished in the New Year,’ Will continued, ‘so the library took on the records to catalogue them before they’re transferred to the archives in Northampton. Industrial heritage and all that. That’s where I work, the archives in Northampton. Well, sort of work. I’m doing a placement for my Masters. Sorry, I’m talking too much. I do that rather a lot after spending the day on my own in here. Occupational hazard. So, what’s this research you’re undertaking?’

‘I don’t want to keep you from your work.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. There are only so many shoe patterns a man can catalogue in a day. So, why are you digging around in the history of an old family? Is it some kind of project?’

‘No, it’s just an interest. I’ve lived behind Hill House all my life, and I’m just curious to find out a bit about the family that lived there. The Mandevilles, I think they were called. They were there for generations, before they left and the house fell into disrepair. At least that’s what I remember from a school project I did years ago,’ she was quick to add.

‘I see.’ Will tapped his teeth with a pencil. ‘I’m not a local, so don’t know much myself, but I do have a colleague, Jem, who’s been researching the old families of the area for a project she’s working on for the First World War Centenary. You know, the lost generation of sons sort of thing.’

Lou closed her eyes and saw Tom’s name etched into the brass of the war memorial. She swallowed hard.

‘Jem was complaining that the records of one family are missing,’ Will said. ‘And I’m pretty sure the name was Mandeville, at least it sounded a bit French to my untrained ear. Wasn’t the last baronet a bachelor who sold up to go and live in London?’

‘Yes, after the Second World War. As I remember.’

‘Then, he’s our man. Sad, though, isn’t it? So many of those old families and houses bit the dust after the Second World War. Death duties and the like crippled them. It was cheaper to abandon ship and sell up. That’s the march of progress, I suppose. Jem said it’s assumed that the last baronet took the estate and family records with him. It’s a tragedy, really – all that lost history. But you never know, one day, an eager young archivist might come across the records stuffed in the back of an old wardrobe somewhere. We can but hope!’