‘Yes she had!’ George said. ‘She was an extremely-wealthy woman. She must have inherited a fortune from her family years ago. She never touched it. There are brokers’ reports going back for years. She and Fred lived off the farm while she had investments worth tens of thousands of pounds.’ He paused. ‘But this is even more interesting. It’s the draft of a letter to her solicitor, asking him to look into the possibility of buying Back Rigg from the estate. Apparently as tenant she’d have first option if it came up for sale. Marcus Grenville wouldn’t like that at all. Where would he put his shooting parties then? This is the only house big enough on the estate.’

‘Couldn’t he build?’

George shook his head. ‘He’d never get planning permission. Not even with his influence. This is the heart of the National Park.’

‘So this provides Marcus Grenville with another reason for wanting Ursula out of the way.’

George poured himself more whisky. ‘ It gives us another suspect too,’ he said. ‘ Sally. It’s unlikely, of course, but it would be interesting to find out if she knew how rich her mother was.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ Molly said. ‘ I don’t want to be uncharitable, but Sally’s always been mercenary. She’d be here by now going through the papers by herself if she thought there was something in it for her.’

George gathered up the loose letters into a file. A black and white photograph floated on to the table. Molly picked it up. A tall, handsome woman in a floral print dress looked at her.

‘This is Ursula,’ she said, ‘as she was when I first knew her.’

She began to cry.

Chapter Ten

When Danny Craven woke up he was lying fully clothed on the settee in the Lodge. It was dark. He awoke suddenly, like a child disturbed from a nightmare, and for a moment he did not know where he was. He thought he was a boy again in the cottage down the valley, in the room he had shared with his sister. Then his eyes grew accustomed to the dark and he saw that the window was in the wrong place and he could make out the shadows of the heavy old furniture. He shut his eyes and turned his head into the cushion in an attempt to recreate again the illusion of childhood happiness but the moment was gone and gratefully he sank back into a drunken sleep.

When he awoke again it was light and Vic Liddle was banging on the door wanting to know what he had done with the van. Craven sat up carefully. His head throbbed in two distinct places just behind his eyes. He thought he might be sick. Ignoring Liddle’s increasing anger he went into the kitchen, splashed water on to his face, then drank half a pint of milk straight from the bottle.