She was on her second glass of wine and laying the table for supper when the two detectives turned up at her flat. She’d thought she’d seen the back of them, at least for the day. She’d supposed they would let themselves out of the house. Now they stood in the dark basement corridor and she could tell they were about to make more demands.

‘You’d better come in.’

‘Sorry to bother you again.’ But Vera Stanhope was smiling and Kate thought she wasn’t sorry at all. ‘We’d like to get in touch with Mrs Krukowski’s family and her friends, but we can’t find an address book in her flat. Perhaps you can help.’

Kate led them into the kitchen. Ryan and Chloe had vanished back into their rooms. Like shy animals, they usually avoided adult company. Chloe would be working again. Ryan might be listening at his door. He was an observer, and she’d caught him eavesdropping before.

‘Margaret never mentioned family,’ Kate said. The casserole was whirring around in the microwave to defrost. She wished Stuart would arrive. The oven pinged. ‘As I told you, there was a breakdown in relations when she married. I don’t think she ever saw them again. Her parents would probably be dead now, though I can’t remember her going to their funerals.’

‘No brothers or sisters?’

‘None that I know of.’

‘Did she ever tell you where she grew up?’ Vera Stanhope had settled herself at the kitchen table. She was so big that she seemed to take up all the space there, and to be so comfortable that Kate could imagine her staying all night.

‘Gosforth,’ Kate said. ‘One of those grand terraced houses not far from the High Street.’ She saw a glance flash between the two officers and thought the information might somehow be significant.

‘What about friends, then?’ Vera asked. She looked up at Kate. ‘She’d lived in Mardle for a long time and she doesn’t seem to have been a recluse, your Margaret. She must have had friends, even if they didn’t come to visit her here.’ Vera smiled. ‘Friends other than you, I mean.’

Kate thought about that. Margaret had never seemed to feel the need for friends away from Harbour Street, but she didn’t want the detective to think Margaret was some sort of loner or loser.

‘I think most of her social life away from here revolved around the church,’ she said. ‘You should ask the priest, Father Gruskin.’

‘And where will I find him? Is there a Catholic church in Mardle?’