‘Betty’s,’ he said. ‘Have I heard of that?’

‘Probably,’ she replied. ‘It’s famous around here. Tourists queue for hours for a table.’

‘Is it worth it?’

‘My mother used to say, “It’s only bloody tea,” but it is actually very good.’

Bloom was more relaxed here. In London she rarely talked about her mother, except when mentioning an impending visit. Maybe he’d learn a bit more about her. He did respect her privacy – he knew it was important to her – but he was also dying to know what made a woman like Augusta Bloom.

Jameson whistled as they approached Bloom’s family home. Set in its own grounds and surrounded by a low wall topped with a neatly manicured privet hedge was a stone building with large bay windows either side of the front door and actual turrets on the roof. ‘I can see why your mum would want to stay here.’

Bloom unlocked the front door. ‘She’s in a home now.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t realize.’

‘Dementia. You can pop your bag in the first room to the left at the top of the stairs. I’ll get the kettle on and show you what I’ve found so far.’

Jameson nearly whistled again when he opened the door to his room. Decorated from floor to ceiling in floral fabrics and wallpaper, it had two large windows, one overlooking the green and the other with views across the driveway. He placed his bag on the mahogany sleigh bed and checked out the en-suite. It was like being in a country-house hotel.

Downstairs, Bloom had laid out a china teapot and matching cups on the oak kitchen table. Next to them was an open Ordnance Survey map with a large red circle drawn in the centre.

‘Thirty minutes in all directions. That’s from Knaresborough, near here, to Tadcaster and Sherburn in Elmet at three o’clock, Darton and Holmfirth at six o’clock, through to Hebden Bridge and Howarth at nine o’clock. And everywhere in between. It’s huge.’ She passed him his tea.

‘Any have an All Saints Church and a Majestic Wine?’

‘There are All Saints churches in Bradford, Kirkby Overblow, Ilkley, Sherburn, Batley and Bingley.’

‘Majestic Wine?’

‘Five stores in West Yorkshire: Leeds, Huddersfield, Wakefield, Harrogate and Ilkley.’

‘So Jane’s in Ilkley.’ Jameson’s phone vibrated once.

‘Jane’s in Ilkley,’ agreed Bloom.

‘In a house with no known number, in a road with no known name. How big is Ilkley?’

‘Too big. We’re going to need help. I’ve a contact in the West Yorkshire Police and she’s arranged for the Ilkley officers to make some enquiries. I’ve sent them pictures of Jane and Lana.’

‘You’ve been very busy.’ Jameson fished his phone out of his pocket. ‘Thanks, Augusta. If I have to knock on every door in that place, I will.’

‘Shall we drive over?’