She followed Ana into the kitchen at the back of the house where she was surprised to see another woman of about their age sitting at a small Formica table eating rice and stew. The back of her fleece said Tesco, Fruit and Veg Team. ‘Marta,’ Ana said, ‘my friend. She lives here, too. This is Robin, friend of Corinna and Peter.’

The woman nodded, solemn. ‘We are all sorry. Very sorry.’

‘Thanks.’

From the window ledge by the back door, Ana picked up a pack of cigarettes. ‘No smoking in the house. We talk outside – okay?’

The back garden was almost entirely shaggy lawn. At the end, about fifteen feet away, a damp bench was pushed back against wooden panel fencing, behind which were the tall leafless trees Robin had seen from the road. Ana stayed on a strip of crazy paving immediately outside the door, pointing at her feet: slippers. She lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. Inside the house, Robin saw the other woman bring her plate to the sink by the window. Water gurgled down the drain.

‘Is it just the two of you?’ she asked. ‘You and Marta?’

‘Here? No. Four. Four women. Two sisters – they share a room.’ She took another puff on the cigarette. ‘We’re all the same: work, send money home for children and old parents. Sick parents.’

‘It must be hard to be away.’

‘I miss my son. My mother. But I have friends here. Peter.’

‘Visit him, Ana – really. We don’t know if he can hear us but if he can, I’m sure he’d like to hear you. And see you when he wakes up.’

Ana gave her a frank look, as if to say, don’t bullshit me, don’t tell me he’ll get better if he won’t. ‘You want to ask questions. You’re not police? Corinna said you’re police in London.’

‘Not any more. We live in Birmingham now. We live with my parents in Hall Green, Lennie’s at St Saviour’s. I work for a friend – here, look, this is my card.’ She took one from her pocket and handed it over. Ana eyed it.

‘But coming to see you, this is just me, on my own.’

‘The police came here in the morning when it happened. I answered all the questions. I don’t know anything else.’

‘What did they ask you?’

‘Why you ask that?’ A slight narrowing of the eyes.

‘I’m trying to work out what they already know. I have to find out what they don’t know – what they’ve missed.’

‘Why you don’t ask them, if you were police?’

‘I was on a different force, they wouldn’t tell me anything. And I was fired so they don’t trust me.’

Again, the look: don’t try and spin me any lines. Then a shrug. ‘They asked me, was there trouble in the house? Fighting.’