‘I’m a psychotherapist. Was. Still am. Sorry, not yet used to my new status.’ Sophie lets go of my hand and wanders back towards the gate. ‘I’m a psychotherapist but my current contract just came to an end, so I’m taking some time out with the kids.’

‘Well, I hope you’ll be very happy here. It’s a grand place for kids.’

‘It does seem lovely. Speaking of kids, I’d better get Sophie in before she disappears again. Imagine losing your child in a game of Hide and Seek in your own front garden.’

‘It would be ironic, I suppose, after what happened here.’

‘After what happened here?’

‘To the other little girl.’ Fran jerks a thumb at our house.

‘Who?’

A funny look crosses her face. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Forget I said it.’

‘Something happened to a little girl here?’ I prompt, curious, but suddenly uneasy too.

She purses her lips, then, decision apparently made, moves closer to the wall.

‘I suppose you’ll find out anyway if you google it. It happened back in the eighties – a whole heap of kids playing Hide and Seek one morning, down there on the green.’ She indicates with her hand. ‘Only one poor little thing hid somewhere and was never found.’

‘Wait. I’ve heard that story. Lily … Lily Murphy was the child’s name?’

‘Yep. Awful time. Everyone searched and searched, but she was never found.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Obviously after a point, they were looking for a body.’

‘Jesus.’

Fran nods. ‘Can you imagine? Mary and Robbie, those were her parents, living a perfectly normal happy life, all destroyed by a simple game of Hide and Seek. That’s why what you said about your daughter struck me as ironic. Same game, similar age, and same house too.’

‘The same house?’

‘Yes – the Murphys lived here in the house you’ve just bought.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘I take it the estate agent didn’t mention it …’

‘The estate agent didn’t say a word … That’s … Wow. I don’t know what Mark will think.’

‘Your husband?’

‘Yeah. Actually, you might know him – he grew up here in Rowanbrook. Mark Stedman?’

‘Mark Stedman,’ she repeats, and her expression changes but I can’t read it. Is it nostalgia? Surprise? Irritation? ‘No, I don’t remember the name.’

None of the above, then.

Fran tilts her head. ‘But if he’s from here, surely he must have been aware that you were buying Lily Murphy’s house?’

‘No. He’d have said. I’m sure he wouldn’t have bought it if he’d known.’

‘Right …’ Fran tails off, then smiles. ‘Too late now anyway,’ she says brightly, as though we’re talking about buying the wrong kind of cereal or full-fat milk. ‘So, we should swap numbers – are you in the Rowanbrook WhatsApp group?’

‘No, I didn’t realize there was one.’

‘Did you not – well, you got a mention there already, you know. You’re famous.’

‘Really?’

‘Ah, I’m exaggerating. When the house went up for sale, someone in the group shared an old article about Lily’s disappearance. I think people were curious to see who would buy the house. That’s all. I’ll send you an invite link to the group if you like, what’s your number?’