‘Why come to Gritton and work in an abattoir?’ I said. ‘A beautiful young woman, who must be well-off, yet she’s cleaning up pigs’ guts in a backwater village.’

‘It is weird.’

‘Anna Finchley said she thought Violet had come to Gritton for another reason and the job was an excuse. We need to know that reason.’

‘Did you talk to the brother?’ Jai asked. ‘Gary, was it?’

‘Yeah. And that’s another odd set-up. I got the impression he can’t stand this place and he and his sister hate each other. It’s all simmering under the surface.’

‘It’d be more than simmering if I had to work with my sister.’

‘Ha, I’m sure.’

I wished I could have had the chance to simmer about my sister.

‘Sorry,’ Jai said. ‘That was insensitive.’

‘It’s fine. She died twenty-five years ago. You don’t need to be sensitive. In fact, I’d worry about you if you started being sensitive.’

A mile later, we came to a sign: Welcome to Gritton. Please drive carefully.

I pulled around a steep bend and looked at the road ahead. A flush of adrenaline hit my stomach and I slammed on the brakes.

‘Bloody hell,’ Jai said. ‘What’s that?’

In front of us, the road seemed to have collapsed into a spectacular sinkhole, but as I looked more closely, I could see it was in fact an image painted onto the road. ‘Wow,’ I said, allowing the car to crawl towards the crater and fighting the urge to shut my eyes as we drove over it. ‘That slowed me down.’

‘It’s good to see that you shut your eyes when things get tricky,’ Jai said.

‘I just squinted a little! But you wouldn’t want to drive here if you had a weak heart. I suppose it must be to slow people down, but it’s a bit brutal.’

Once we’d passed the fake sinkhole, the lane rose steeply beside a row of stone houses with freshly painted windows in Farrow & Ball colours. On the other side was a park, tree-fringed and pristine, a children’s play area at its centre. Every lawn was immaculately mown and weed-free, every garden fenced with railings, every door beautifully painted. The street lamps were Victorian-style. There weren’t even any people, as if they’d lower the tone. The only things that disturbed the look were notices attached to the lamp posts, although even they were tastefully done. Don’t Build on our Burial Grounds! Stop the Development!

‘Is this a real village or a filmset for a period drama?’ Jai said.

‘It’s creepy,’ I said. ‘And everything’s fenced in. Look at the railings by the sides of the road. That would annoy me. You can only cross in designated spots. I’d feel the need to climb over them.’

‘That could end in tears,’ Jai said.