‘Yes.’

‘Right. My professional view was that, had I been inspecting the premises of anyone of that age other than Ingrid, I would have recommended some tidying up for safety reasons. With your mother, though, I thought she was more than capable of looking after herself. I would not have advised taking any decluttering action.’

‘Hm.’ Alexandra grinned wryly. ‘Well, you were wrong, weren’t you? As it turned out.’

I hadn’t really thought of that before. But I suppose, by any objective analysis, she was right.

The waitress arrived to take our order. Before food was mentioned, Alexandra swallowed down the remains of her Pinot Grigio and asked for another.

We both went for fish and chips. Dodgy choice in some pubs in the area, where you get presented with a strip of battered cardboard. But I knew they did them very well at the East Beach Café.

‘So,’ I said, ‘you spoke to Ingrid after my visit?’

‘Yes. On Tuesday. God, that seems an age ago now.’

‘Tuesday? The day she died?’

‘That’s right. Well, I haven’t heard what time the fire was reckoned to have happened. I supposed she could have died on the Wednesday morning.’

‘But you rang her on the Tuesday?’

‘Better than that. I went to see her on the Tuesday. Dutiful daughter or what?’

I couldn’t stop myself from asking, ‘What time of day did you see her?’

Fortunately, Alexandra didn’t notice that this question belonged more in the category of interrogation than casual enquiry. I still wasn’t convinced Ingrid Richards’ death had been an accident and was hungry for any information I could get about her last hours.

‘Early evening,’ she replied. ‘Round six thirty, I suppose.’

‘And did she behave unusually in any way?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, did she say anything that was unexpected?’

‘Sorry?’ Her second Pinot Grigio arrived. She took a healthy swallow from it. I wondered if this was a taste she’d inherited from her mother. Alexandra grinned with sudden realization. ‘Oh, I see. You’re asking if she said anything about wanting to top herself?’

That wasn’t what I’d been asking. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. And I’m extremely sensitive on the subject of suicide.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘I just wondered if she’d talked about … I don’t know … other visitors she was expecting that evening …?’

I’d tried to make the question sound disingenuous, but it prompted a sharp look of suspicion. ‘No, she didn’t,’ Alexandra said firmly. ‘Incidentally, Ellen, have the police been on to you?’

I couldn’t deny it. I had no reason to deny it.

‘I hope you didn’t mind.’

‘Mind? Why should I mind?’

‘They asked me about people who’d visited Ingrid recently and I mentioned you.’

‘Not a problem. Telling the truth to the police can often save you a lot of trouble.’

‘Mm. And when they heard why you’d visited her, they were keen to get your views on, you know, how safe she was in the flat?’