‘You don’t think your mother would’ve put it in the bank or something, for safe keeping?’ Adam suggested.

‘God, no. She didn’t even lock the house, she’d never have put anything in a strong room.’

‘Did she know it was valuable?’

‘I don’t think so. She never said so to me. She hated things like the Antiques Roadshow: well, she didn’t watch any television, did she? I don’t think she’d have known what it was worth. Although, having said that, she always assumed everything to do with her side of the family was important and unique. Do you remember? She’d say things like: “That tallboy is frightfully valuable.” When brown furniture is literally worthless.’

‘Might she’ve sold it, that’s what I’m getting at?’

‘I doubt it. She kept all the things she got from her parents, anyway. Remnants of their glorious past and all that. I don’t know of her ever selling anything. Or buying anything much, now I come to think of it. We don’t know if it was even worth anything when she had it. They could have just recently shot up in value.’

Over lunch, Adam and Cass made a list of all the people they could think of who’d been in the house since they first arrived there themselves. There’d been three cleaners: Celia’s old daily had died and had been replaced by a girl who kept breaking things; since then they’d employed a woman from the other side of Truro. They couldn’t remember the name of the accident-prone girl, but they agreed it was unlikely she’d have stolen it: unlikely that she’d have even known what it was. There’d been the electrician who’d had to rewire, he’d had a lad with him; the decorators who’d repaired the ceiling in the dining room, where the bath above had overflowed. Adam said he would ring around, ask everyone about it. The trouble was, with a thing like that, it would’ve been so easy to pocket. Adam went through to the office to make the calls. He and Cass agreed that they wouldn’t mention what the medal actually was: they’d just say it was an old family one, that they wanted to find it for sentimental reasons. No need to broadcast the fact that they had – or, rather, had mislaid – something so valuable in the house.

‘How’s it going?’ asked Georgie, when she rang that evening.

‘We still haven’t found it,’ said Cass.

‘Jakey used to play with those medals, when he had the craze for dressing up as a soldier, do you remember? He used to wear that old red dressing gown of Dad’s and …’ said Georgie.

‘Fuck! Why didn’t you say that yesterday?’ said Cass.

‘Well, because it’s got nothing to do with anything,’ said Georgie.