I pause, wavering. I really don’t want to leave yet, not with the rain still pouring and the atmosphere at home. It’s like she can tell that I’m not sure, as she smiles, showing off perfectly even white teeth.

‘Please,’ she says again. I lower myself back down into the chair, warily. ‘Let me get you another coffee – just to say sorry for taking your table, and making you think . . . you know.’

‘OK.’ I nod, and she hurries over to the urn, returning quickly with another cup of vile, lukewarm coffee.

‘I’m not a journalist, I promise,’ she says, as she sips at her drink, wincing slightly at the taste. ‘It’s . . . it’s horrifying, isn’t it? I’m sure I recognise the father from my school days – Dominic, isn’t it? It’s scary to think that this could happen to someone you know.’

‘Yes. It’s terrifying,’ I agree, not wanting to elaborate on anything. I’m not sure if she realises I’m Laurel’s nanny. ‘For all the community.’

‘He was always very smart at school,’ she goes on, ‘one of the clever ones. He was in my year, but I didn’t really know him. I didn’t know he’d moved here.’

‘Why would you?’ I ask, curious now, at meeting someone who knew Dominic as a child.

‘Oh, you know. This is a small community, believe it or not. No different to living in a village. Most people know most things, if you get what I mean.’

That’s not the impression I’ve had of Oxbury in the three years I’ve lived here. I’ve had the impression that everyone keeps to themselves where possible, unless something really juicy happens, then everyone is fair game. I keep my mouth shut.

‘You’re the nanny, aren’t you? I saw you at the school, on Sunday morning. When they were searching for Laurel.’ So, she does know. The woman sitting across from me doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘Sorry – I probably should have said.’

‘And you’re definitely not a journalist?’ I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly.

‘No! God, no.’ She gives a small laugh. ‘Would that I had such an exciting job as that. I work in the library! No, I remember Dom from school, and I just wanted to check in, I suppose. I’m Ella, by the way. I used to live around here . . . God, years ago, I’ve only recently moved back to the area myself. I . . . I lost a child before and I know how excruciating the pain can be.’ Her brown eyes cloud over and she blinks rapidly.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my skin prickling uncomfortably. What can you say to that?

‘How is Dom?’ she says, dabbing at her eyes briefly.

‘As well as can be expected.’