‘Oh, Lindsay? Last week. It could have been the week before.’

‘Did you visit the house in Darwin Street on that occasion?’

He hesitated, contorting his mouth as if trying to work around some words that he couldn’t pronounce.

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Surely you can remember where you last saw your sister.’

Lowther stared at her. She noticed that the focus of his eyes was shifting back and forth, like someone trying to get a fix on a constantly moving object. Fry began to feel as though she wasn’t really there to him. Not all of the time, anyway.

‘I can’t remember. Did I say that already?’

Fry deliberately shifted her position, made a show of moving her notes on the table, gestured with her hands in front of her face. Anything to make sure she had John Lowther’s full attention.

‘I know you were very close to your sister, sir. But what sort of relationship do you have with your brother-in-law, Brian Mullen? Would you say there was some resentment between you?’

But Lowther barely seemed to have heard her. He made that chewing movement with his mouth again. Fry decided he wasn’t trying to pronounce the words, but to swallow them, to suck them back into his mouth before they reached the air.

Then, astonishingly, he smiled at her. It was a charming smile, friendly and guileless. What a nice conversation we’re having his expression seemed to say.

‘Is there another question?’

Fry sighed. ‘Yes. Mr Lowther, have you ever seen this before?’

She showed him a photograph of the wooden dinosaur.

‘Tyrannosaurus.’

‘Have you seen it before?’

‘No. Is it from abroad?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘Some people go abroad, hunting for whores. No, for babies.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry, I get confused sometimes. I’m not sure what you’re asking me. Is it time?’

Fry automatically looked at her watch. ‘Time?’

‘Time to leave.’

‘Do you want to leave, sir? You’re only here voluntarily, so you can leave whenever you want. We can’t keep you against your will. But we only want to ask you some questions, Mr Lowther. We’re trying to find out how your sister and her children died.’

‘What are they saying?’ said Lowther.

Again, he seemed to be looking at something behind her. Or perhaps not looking at something, but listening.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ she asked.

‘You don’t have to believe what people are saying, you know.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t quite follow –’

‘The things they say,’ he insisted. ‘They aren’t always right. You don’t have to believe them.’

‘Which people do you mean particularly?’

Lowther looked anxious. A bead of sweat formed at his temple and trickled slowly towards his jaw.

‘Whoever it is that you’re listening to. I don’t know who they are. I don’t know who any of them are.’