Jane hesitated, not wanting to put her foot in it. ‘Is your husband still alive?’

Mrs. Harris gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, dear, he is very much alive and living in Guernsey with a very common woman with false teeth. We have been divorced for a long time.’

To hide her embarrassment, Jane continued, ‘You said your ex-husband didn’t approve of Charles Foxley?’

‘Good God, no. He didn’t have a pot to piss in, and no career, really. Whereas Justine had already starred in two costume dramas for the BBC, and obviously her father gave her a substantial allowance. Even when he threatened to cut it off, she still went ahead and married Charles. And now look what’s happened.’

‘They were married for some time, though?’ Jane said.

‘Yes, and if Justine hadn’t financed his agency, he probably would’ve gambled everything away. But he could turn on the charm, and even though I was as against her marriage as my ex-husband, Charles could be a really delightful man, or really a boy. I don’t think he ever grew up.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Florence turned her face to look out of the window.

‘I believe his business was very successful?’ Jane pressed.

‘Yes, so I have been told,’ Florence said curtly.

Florence seemed ill at ease, as if she had said too much. Jane finished the small cup of coffee, eager now to have a conversation with Justine. Florence stood up and went over to a silver cigarette box on a beautifully carved round table. She took out a cigarette and lit it with a heavy silver lighter. She remained with her back towards Jane.

‘He could also be a monster. When I say he was boyish, he had rages and temper tantrums like a child. He could be vicious. I don’t think he was ever physically violent, but he was a man full of self-loathing and low self-esteem. He took it out on my daughter. She gave up her career for him, and it was her money, her contacts . . . Without them he would never have had even a modicum of success. Tragically, they couldn’t live with each other and they couldn’t live without each other. They tormented each other. That’s why my daughter has tried to kill herself and that’s why I refused to allow Clara to spend any time with him, her so-called father.’ The smoke drifted from her cigarette as she inhaled deeply. ‘I hated him. I know he has been brutally murdered, but I don’t think you will find many people who really care.’

At that moment the double doors opened widely as Justine entered. She looked at her mother.

‘Please leave the room, Mother.’

Mrs. Harris stubbed her cigarette out in a large glass bowl and picked up the little silver tray on which she had served Jane her coffee.

‘I suppose you were listening at the door.’