She was already resentful. It was her fault, of course. She should be more assertive, put her views forward. But how typical that they should think that she had no useful contribution to make, that George had made no mention of her theory that Alex and Simon Barton had spent Friday night together. This patronising concern was the final insult.

‘Of course I’ll be all right on my own,’ she said. ‘You-boys run away and play.’

They were let into Mrs Craven’s bungalow by a middle-aged woman in lilac Crimplene trousers and a fluffy lilac cardigan.

‘Here you are, dear!’ she called, in the bright, unnatural voice of those who care for the elderly, a voice that George thought would lead him to commit murder if he were subjected to it for more than a day. ‘Here are the visitors I was telling you about!’

She led them into a warm sitting room, too small for the furniture crammed inside. She was obviously curious and was about to settle into one of the chairs herself when Benwell thanked her and told her they wouldn’t need to trouble her any more.

‘Stupid woman,’ said a small vigorous woman in the high-backed chair near the fire. ‘I can’t abide her. Always fussing.’

The warden, still within earshot, blushed and departed.

‘Would you like tea?’ the old woman said. ‘I’m here because of the arthritis but I’m not helpless. I can make you tea if you want it.’

No, Benwell said. They did not want tea.

‘What do you want, then?’ She was fierce, a fighter. No one would make a fool of her. ‘Has Daniel got himself into some sort of trouble? I knew it was bound to happen one day.’

‘Why do you say that, Mrs Craven?’

‘He’s always had a short fuse,’ she said dismissively. There was no indication that she had any affection for her son. ‘Not that I see much of him. He only lives down the road but he doesn’t bother to come here.’

‘It’s not about Daniel,’ Benwell said. ‘We want to talk to you about your daughter Kate.’

‘She’s dead,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I can’t tell you anything about her. What’s it got to do with you, anyway?’

‘I’m a policeman,’ Benwell said. ‘We’ve been asked to look again at the circumstances surrounding her death.’

‘Well, you’re wasting your time, Mr Policeman,’ she said. ‘Kate killed herself. There’s never been any doubt about that.’

‘We realise that, Mrs Craven,’ Benwell said calmly. ‘But we’d like your help all the same. Perhaps it’s painful for you to talk about it all over again. Shall I bring the warden back to look after you?’

‘Don’t you dare!’ she said. ‘If I say anything in front of that witch it’ll be all round the town before I’ve had my breakfast.’