I reached for my laptop on the kitchen counter and looked up the castle on Wikipedia. Sure enough, it told me that there is a viewing platform high in the turret on the south-east corner, right above the yard. Anyone there would have been easily able to watch as Simon and I walked across from his house to the barn. And I reckoned someone must have, someone who had recognised me, and that someone had then posted the fact on social media. But who? And why?

To be honest, I was a little worried about Simon. He had almost begged me to leave and to tell no one of my visit.

‘It would put me in great danger if certain people knew I’d been talking to Sid Halley,’ he had said.

‘Which certain people are those?’ I’d asked, but he resolutely wouldn’t say. Instead, he had simply ushered me back to my car, then quickly disappeared into his messy house, closing the door firmly behind him.

But now those ‘certain people’ would surely know.

Did I phone and warn him?

‘So what are you going to do?’ Gary asked, bringing me back from my drifting mind.

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Nail the bastards who burned down my yard. If you won’t do it, I’m going to have to go to the BHA myself and tell them—not that they’ll believe me. I have form. But they would believe you.’

I wasn’t so sure about that.

‘It would help if you would tell me the names of these bastards.’

There was a long pause.

‘Have you ever heard of a man called Anton Valance?’

‘No. Who is he?’

‘He’s a bastard.’

And with that, Gary abruptly hung up.

I reached again for my laptop and typed ‘Anton Valance’ into the Google search panel, but the only reference was to a Russian abstract artist, and I doubted that Gary was referring to him.

A search for any Anton Valances in the UK online telephone directory also produced no useful results.

Any further searches were interrupted by my telephone ringing again and, this time, it was Marina.

‘How are things?’ I asked in as light a tone as possible.

‘Okay, I suppose.’ She paused. ‘Well, actually, they’re not. I had to take Pa to the hospital in Leeuwarden this afternoon because his breathing was so laboured.’

‘Was he admitted?’

‘No. They just gave him some oxygen and an injection to stimulate his heart. He improved a bit, so they sent him home again. But the doctors weren’t very reassuring. It was as if they can’t do anything more for him.’

She was in tears.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, wishing I could take her in my arms for comfort.

‘Yeah. Me too.’

‘Do you want me to come over? Even if only to look after Sassy?’

‘Maybe. If Pa gets worse again. I’ll call you.’

Now that sounded more hopeful.