Jude was thrown by the question and improvised madly. ‘Erm, because you are getting sick of … as you say, “lots of the Fethering gossips muttering behind their hands” about you. Because, if we found out what actually did happen that morning at the garage, they’d all get off your back.’

‘Hm. Yes, I do share your curiosity about that. Incidentally, were you the one who was in Shefford’s when it happened?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, it must’ve been your partner then. People always talk about you two together.’

Jude grinned inwardly, remembering their recent conversation. ‘It was Carole Seddon, my neighbour.’

‘Right. So, she might actually have some hard facts to contribute to the discussion?’

‘I’m sure she will have.’

‘OK then. I don’t mind seeing the two of you together.’

‘Good.’ Jude was delighted. And she knew Carole would be too. ‘Where do you want to meet? We’d be happy to come to your place.’

‘No.’

‘The Crown and Anchor?’

‘God, no. That’d be like poking a stick straight into the gossips’ wasps’ nest. No, we need to meet somewhere more private.’

Tom Kendrick’s idea of ‘somewhere more private’ was a pub in The Lanes in Brighton. Carole complained about this, because parking in the city was always difficult. But when they got there, the setting was so markedly different from anything in Fethering that they understood his logic.

One of the big differences was the average age of the clientele. Though in the tourist season the Crown and Anchor would see a good few holidaymaking families, in the winter it was mostly locals, which meant retired people. Brighton had a much younger demographic. In the pub were thin young men challenging the weather in skimpy T-shirts, young women in clashing clothes and hair colours that extended the range of nature’s palette. And nobody seemed to be untattooed.

The pub was full for early afternoon, but the clientele didn’t seem to be just relaxing. There was an air of busyness. Laptops and tablets were much in evidence. Their loud chatter and wild gesticulations had an earnestness about them. They seemed to be discussing work projects, almost definitely arts-related.

The place wasn’t ‘private’ in the sense of ‘empty’ or ‘quiet’, but the very noisiness provided its own security. Everyone there was far too interested in their own conversations to bother eavesdropping on anyone else’s. Events in Fethering felt a very long way away.

The venue made Carole acutely uncomfortable. She was sure everyone was looking at her, though in fact nobody bothered. Jude, never much concerned what other people thought of her, was completely at her ease as she pressed her way through the crowd to greet Tom.

He had taken off his hoodie, revealing long arms which had their own share of tattoos. He was in conversation with a couple of other T-shirted young men, one with blond dreadlocks, but they scuttled away at his visitors’ arrival.