For all the times she’d done it, Robin hated going through people’s intimate stuff. Even in a situation like this, where the aim wasn’t to incriminate but to learn, maybe find a lead, it made her feel grubby. The thought of some sweaty-fingered DC raking through Corinna’s underwear made her want to puke all over again. But maybe it wouldn’t happen – couldn’t. Given the extent of the fire damage, Corinna’s clothes had likely been reduced to a heap of ash and melted hangers. Even if they hadn’t been destroyed, none of them would be worth keeping; those that weren’t burned would be drenched, and if they’d escaped even that, they’d reek so strongly of smoke that no one who’d loved Rin could ever bear to go near them. At least Di would be spared the task of sorting through her daughter’s things. But by the same token, there would be nothing for Peter to bury his face in, nothing left that smelled of his mother. Robin pressed the idea, running her finger along it as if it were a blade. She wanted it to hurt, to cut through to the ball of potential pain she still hadn’t been able to access. Why couldn’t she cry? What was wrong with her?

With a screech on the rail, Maggie pushed things to one side and took out a black body-con dress. She held it up to the light.

‘She bought that in the sales last month.’ Valerie appeared in the mirror behind her. Robin jumped, and turned around.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to … She and Lucy – her best friend – they got up at four o’clock to go. The trousers she was wearing when she … She got them sixty per cent off – she was so chuffed. She bought me a cardigan, too. That’s Lucy.’ In a second, Valerie was at Robin’s side, pointing to a photograph tucked into the mirror-frame of a pretty girl with light brown hair twisted into a top-knot. She wore a strappy, gym-type T-shirt and her face was flushed and shiny with sweat. ‘They did a 10K run last April, the three of them.’

‘He being the third?’ Robin pointed at the man with his arm around the girl’s shoulders, same age, mixed race. Eyes closed against the sun but grinning, a near-empty water bottle hanging between the fingers of his other hand.

‘Harry, yes.’

‘They look close – are they together?’

‘Lucy and Harry? No. Lucy’s going out with Cal – Calvin. They’re just friends, the three of them. I always worried about that – three’s a crowd – but it works. They’ve been friends for years, since they all started at Grafton House.’

‘Grafton House?’ said Maggie. ‘The private school?’