According to their advertising, these tents were supposed to go up in ten seconds, but she bet it had taken a good bit longer than that. The peg-down eyelets looked none too secure in the soft ground, and the guy ropes were slippery with mud.

‘Duckboards,’ someone was saying into a radio. ‘We need duckboards here. Lots of duckboards.’

Fry turned back to Murfin again. ‘So where’s this builder who found the body?’

‘Waiting in the van over there. Ward is his name – Jamie Ward, aged twenty. I’d hardly call him your typical builder, actually.’

Fry looked at him. ‘So what would you call him, Gavin?’

Murfin closed his notebook. ‘Terrified,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’d call him – a terrified kid.’

Matt Cooper had loaded some sheep into a trailer and was doing the paperwork in the Land Rover when his brother arrived. Ben could see a sheaf of forms resting on a clipboard. Pink copy for the destination, blue for the haulier, yellow for the holding of departure.

Matt opened the door, the usual frown caused by paperwork clearing from his face.

‘Hello, little brother. How was Amy? Did she have a good time?’

‘Oh, yes. She was fascinated by the recipe for preserving a severed hand.’

‘That sounds about right. She’s been in a funny mood recently.’

Matt was still putting on weight. That was a new set of overalls he was wearing, and they were a size larger than the last ones. He was only in his mid-thirties, so he still had middle-aged spread to look forward to.

‘Amy talks in quite a grown-up way sometimes, doesn’t she?’ said Ben.

‘Oh, you noticed that. Yes, it’s a bit of a new thing. I think it’s some influence at school – she must have some new friends, or something.’

‘Or a new teacher she’s got a crush on?’

‘Do girls have crushes on teachers?’

‘Yes, I believe so, Matt.’

‘I mean … well, I think they’re mostly female teachers that she has at that school.’

‘Even so.’

Matt was silent for a moment. ‘I’ll ask Kate to have a quiet word,’ he said.

Ben turned to look at the farmhouse, conscious of its presence behind him, the old family home. Now that he no longer lived here, he noticed that Bridge End Farm was starting to look middle-aged, too. The house hadn’t been painted for a while, and he could see that some work needed doing on the roof of the barn. He supposed there wasn’t much money in the bank to spare for repairs these days.

‘It’ll just be a phase Amy is going through, won’t it?’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘It could be a lot worse, Matt. She’s a sensible girl.’

Matt put his paperwork aside. ‘Ben, how come you know so much more about pubescent girls than I do? I’m the dad around here.’