‘Walking back to Rowanbrook?’ she asks, and I nod, adding something about the weather. Today Liz is wearing office clothes – a black shift dress with smart tan sandals and matching tote bag. Her earrings – rose-gold crosses with tiny embedded crystals – coordinate perfectly with a delicate chain around her neck. I look down at my own leggings and trainers and have a sudden yearning for office clothes and my old job. And maybe my old house too, and life – imperfect though it was – before discovering Lily Murphy’s story.

‘I’m still struggling to get my head around what happened to Cora,’ Liz says, pushing Prada sunglasses to the crown of her head. ‘I didn’t know her at all really, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The horror of how it happened. And wondering if she jumped.’

‘Same.’

‘Not that I thought she had any reason to,’ Liz adds hurriedly. ‘If anything, she was full of … vigour? Is that a weird word? I bumped into her on Thursday afternoon. Maybe that’s why the whole thing has left me so shocked – that I saw her hours before she died.’

So I wasn’t the last one to speak to her. Thank you, Jesus. The thought is out before I can box it away.

‘Do … do the guards know you bumped into her on Thursday?’

Liz gives me a funny look.

‘It’s just that they thought I was the last one to speak to her. I wondered if they knew … not that it matters,’ I hurry to add.

‘I mentioned it to them on Friday when they told me what happened, yes. But it was a very brief chat at the garden wall. She was on some mission to clear her dad’s name over the whole Lily Murphy thing. She said she had a “lead”, as she called it.’

‘Did she say what it was?’

‘No, but she was excited.’

‘Actually, Liz, on the subject of Lily, I wanted to ask you – with your estate agent hat on – is there any way to find out the forwarding address of a previous owner, when someone moves house?’

‘If both parties are happy to do so, the estate agent can put them in touch with each other. You want to contact the person who sold you your house?’

We skirt through busy Monday morning traffic to cross the road and turn into Rowanbrook.

‘I’m more thinking about Mary Murphy, wondering if there’s a way to track her down. Mark and I were talking about it over the weekend and speculating about a ransom demand.’ Liz looks at me quizzically. ‘I just want to find out what I can and lay the story to rest. Peace of mind.’

‘God, I don’t know how you’d get the address. The information would be confidential; there’s no way your solicitor would pass it on without permission, and Mary might have moved on again since. I actually thought she went to the States. But no harm in asking. Start with your solicitor. If you need help from any of the estate agents involved over the years, I’ll see if I can do something. Everyone knows everyone.’