‘All sorts of things,’ replied Jocelyn robustly. ‘Keep spare furniture. Breed fancy rabbits. Store potatoes or logs. Loads of things.’

Still the man did not manage a smile. His dog stood meekly at his side, with no expectations. Thea felt angry with him for his disagreeable manner. ‘I’m an accountant,’ he said. ‘I do not breed rabbits or grow potatoes.’

‘Oh, well,’ Jocelyn shrugged. ‘We’ll be going now.’204

‘Hang on,’ said Thea. ‘You didn’t see a Chinese woman over near that big house, as you call it, on Saturday, did you? Black hair, not very tall. I forgot about you when I was telling the police what had happened.’

‘Police?’ There was anger, but no alarm, on his face. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You must have heard about the murder on Sunday? In the Corner House; the one that belongs to Mrs Ibbotson. I’m the house-sitter. I took the woman back there, and somebody killed her.’

‘Oh—’ A thwarted expression crossed his face, as if he’d lost control of the conversation. ‘I knew it had to be you, when we heard the news on Sunday. Everybody in the village has been discussing you.’

‘So, what have they been saying?’

‘That there’s a lot more to the whole business than we’re being told. That you’ve brought trouble and gossip to a quiet village, just like you’ve done elsewhere. We know about your reputation, Mrs Thea Osborne.’ The tone was accusatory, implying a repugnance that Thea found hurtful.

‘Well you’ve got that wrong. My name’s Slocombe, not Osborne.’

‘Ah, yes. Married that peculiar undertaker in Chipping Campden, didn’t you?’

‘Broad Campden,’ Thea muttered.

‘So you didn’t see the Chinese woman?’ Jocelyn asked, trying to maintain dominance over the conversation.

‘Of course I didn’t,’ said the man impatiently. ‘The 205general view is that you brought her with you on Saturday when you arrived, and kept her shut up in the house so nobody would see her.’

‘The general view?’ scoffed Jocelyn. ‘A lot of brainless guesswork, you mean. What a stupid thing to think.’

Thea was finding it hard to stand her ground, despite her sister’s valiant defence. The interpretation made by the villagers was not so very far from the facts, after all. It was the implication of wholesale suspicion and hostility that undid her. ‘Do they think I killed her, then?’ she asked faintly.

The man stretched himself to maximum height, which was about nine inches higher than Thea. ‘I prefer not to discuss the subject any further. If the police feel the need to speak to me, then that’s a different matter.’ He put a hand to an inside pocket of his light cotton jacket and withdrew a card. ‘You’re welcome to pass my details onto them, if you see fit. It’s all on there. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Come on, Jess.’

The dog followed at his heel, casting a quick glance back at the woman she had recognised unerringly as a friend.

The sisters watched him go, not daring to meet each other’s eye. There was a lurking urge to giggle; the childish sense of adventure not quite quenched. ‘Well, that wasn’t very nice,’ said Thea, looking at the card in her hand. ‘His name is James Williams. And he’s a chartered accountant. How dull.’ Her voice was shaky, and her insides were quivering.