Julie marched across the kitchen and removed the lid of a tall, glazed earthenware jar marked “Meal.” She plunged her hand into it and brought out a small black notebook with elastic keeping it shut tight, like beat policemen use. “It’s all in here. Dates, races, horses, amounts. He had a system. It were boring as hell, but it worked. And that’s what paid for this place. It were nothing crooked. See for yourself.” She thrust the notebook at Lindsay, who took it and snapped the elastic back. “It means nowt to me,” she added to Sophie. “It’s all in shorthand. Mebbe she’ll be able to translate it for me, so I can carry on working the system. Only, Tom never explained it to me in any detail.”

Lindsay frowned in concentration. Absently, she pulled a chair out and sat down at the long mahogany table that ran along one wall. She took her notebook out of her handbag and scribbled a couple of notes. The other two women stared at her, the suspense they felt obvious on both faces. “The system’s pretty simple,” Lindsay finally said, having studied the first few pages closely, then flicked through to the end, stopping here and there to translate the occasional sentence or paragraph. What she read there made her feel physically sick. Lindsay forced herself not to reveal her feelings and looked up at the expectant faces. “Though you’re right, Julie, it must be bloody boring. It’s based on the principle that favorites statistically win more often than not. What you do is, you basically bet on as many races as possible, chronologically. In the first race, you put 50p on the favorite. If it loses, you put £1 on the favorite in the second race. If it loses, you put £2 on the favorite in the third. As soon as you win, you go back to the beginning, with 50p on the next favorite. And so on. You never win huge amounts, but if you do it consistently, you win a substantial amount over time. As your lovely home demonstrates so amply,” she added, managing to keep a straight face.

“It should be lovely, it cost enough,” Julie grumbled proudly. “And I’ll need that bloody system to carry on paying for it. Not that he hasn’t left me well provided for. Thanks, love,” she added belatedly. “I do appreciate that. I don’t trust any of them fellas that do shorthand to tell me the truth. They’d be wanting Tom’s system for themselves, selfish bastards, all of them.”

“There’s more than his horse-racing stuff in here, Julie,” Lindsay said seriously.

Julie frowned. “How d’you mean? That’s all I ever saw him use it for.”