‘It’s weird, seeing these,’ she said, finally. Rob passed her a bottle of lager and she took a large gulp, the liquid coating her throat.

‘It’s like a time capsule,’ he said. ‘I rarely come in here – it creeps me out.’

Lizzie laughed, but didn’t say anything. He was right. Somehow it did feel creepy in this room. Like it held secrets. All those faces trapped in time, lining the walls. Snippets of history. Of Mapledon’s past; its residents.

‘You’re in one of them, did you see?’ Rob said, approaching the first wall.

‘No, where?’

He pointed to one that depicted what looked to be a village fete. ‘This was May Day. I was about nine or ten I think, and I’d been counting my lucky stars I’d got out of dancing like a prat around that bloody maypole.’ He laughed. ‘Some of my mates hadn’t been that fortunate – there’s Adam, and Nicky.’ He laughed again, pressing a fingertip against the glass, indicating the boys. ‘And there’s you, sitting in the middle. The younger kids always sat around the pole while the older ones danced, weaving the ribbons into patterns. Do you remember?’

She had a vague memory of coloured ribbons flying around. ‘I think so. I don’t remember ever dancing, though.’

‘You wouldn’t. You’d gone before you were the age to dance.’

‘Wow, that sounds unfair, doesn’t it?’ She forced a smile. ‘Who are the people around the edge, watching?’

‘Um … gosh, not sure, almost all the villagers came out in force on May Day. Let’s see …’ Rob moved closer to the photo and began rattling off names. ‘There’s my mum and Muriel – obviously, there was never any show without Punch – Eric, Mark, Reverend Farnley, Tina, Billy and Pat.’

‘Wait, Billy? Really?’ Lizzie pushed her head next to Rob’s. ‘I didn’t think he ever went out. By all accounts he was never made to feel welcome. And most people’s memories point to him not being bothered in the slightest with village events.’

‘Well, the camera never lies. And he is there, standing right next to Tina.’

Lizzie noted the straggly hair, the hunched shoulders, recognising her father from the many pictures she’d seen in the media. ‘He was keeping an eye on me.’

‘Or just going to see you take part in the May Day celebrations?’ Rob offered.

‘No. You can see from his posture, his gaze – look.’ Lizzie pointed. ‘It’s like he’s afraid I’m going to come to harm or something. I’d heard that he’d become overprotective of me after Mum died. This must’ve been near then.’

‘Didn’t your mum die at the end of May, though? This would’ve been before that, being a May Day thing. I could ask Mum.’

‘No need.’ It didn’t really matter about the timing. What was interesting was how closely her father was standing to Tina. Jonie’s mum. Was Jonie one of the girls dancing? Looking more closely, Lizzie wondered if it was Jonie her father had such a close eye on. Not her. A shiver shot through her. No. She was reading too much into it. Hadn’t she decided that she was more inclined to believe Billy was innocent of the crime? She had to make her mind up, come down on one side of the fence or the other.