‘I’m fine. I got more sleep last night.’

‘How much?’

‘Six, seven hours.’ Three, maximum. Maggie narrowed her eyes, assessing; Robin pretended not to notice. ‘Where to?’

‘Office first, briefly. We’ll park across the street same as yesterday then walk down. I need some exercise. Let’s take Alcester Road in, change of scene. Left at the top here.’ She pulled her collar round her throat. ‘Bloody Baltic this morning – are these heated seats?’

The traffic was heavy through Moseley Village but that was fine by Robin. She’d stay in the car all day, given a choice. When she’d pressed the fob on Dunnington Road, the answering flash of the lights – Here I am, let’s go – had almost brought her to tears. A pocket of her old life not yet snatched away. Dropping into the driver’s seat, she’d remembered Luke’s glee when he said she’d have to sell the car, and she’d gripped the steering wheel as if he were trying to wrest it from her. At this point, she would physically fight for it, and not just her fuckwit brother.

The village part of Moseley was posh. The Luftwaffe had let it off lightly, and the shops and pubs were the original Victorians and Edwardians, no mouldering Sixties concrete to contemplate throwing yourself off here. Big trees, a few nice-looking cafés and bars – even the chain restaurants were the better end of the spectrum.

‘Any news?’ Maggie asked.

‘Well, the police were over again last night. Asking for my alibi.’

Maggie’s head snapped round. In Robin’s sleep-deprived state, the movement looked jump-cut, stop-motion animation with a skip in the tape. ‘Yeah, among other things.’ She told the story: Dennis and the black eye, the repeated questions about Josh’s temper.

‘Did your dad work out when he saw her?’

‘January twenty-seventh. No doubt they’ll check the CCTV at the garage if it still exists, to be sure he isn’t making it up to exculpate me somehow.’

‘They don’t seriously think you’re involved?’

‘Not directly, as far as I know – I hope they’d credit me with sufficient brains not to do it the day I got back – but they like the timing. If not me, then something or someone connected to me.’

‘You can see why. Careful, cyclist on your inside.’

Robin looked and saw a man in shiny blue Lycra shorts inches from the side of the car. Where had he come from? ‘They wanted to know if I was sleeping with Josh. The theory being that I moved back here to facilitate our affair, which led to a showdown between them. Josh kills Corinna in the heat of the moment, burns the house down to hide the evidence – Peter’s just collateral damage, too bad – then skips town.’

‘Again, you’d want to eliminate it.’