‘I don’t suppose you recognise me, do you, Reg?’ Lucy said, as he walked with a stoop into the spick-and-span living room ahead of her.

‘Oh yes, love, of course,’ he replied, though she suspected he was just being polite.

He studied her as he settled into a low-slung armchair. He had a full head of white hair, though it was thin and lank, while his cheeks were pale and had sunk in on themselves. When he peered at her through the pebble-thick lenses of his glasses, there was no clear recollection in his rheumy eyes.

‘DC Clayburn.’ She showed him her warrant card a second time. ‘It’s about the break-in you had on October 22.’

Reg stiffened a little, his armchair’s springs groaning. This he clearly did remember.

‘I’ve not got anything to report yet,’ she added hastily. ‘I just wanted you to know that we’re still investigating it.’

‘Do you think you’ll catch them?’ His voice was shrill, almost squawky.

‘I think there’s a reasonable chance, Reg. My colleague, DC Jepson, came here to see you, I understand?’

Reg nodded, but didn’t say anything.

She wondered why he seemed tense. His spine was stiffly upright, not resting on the cushion of his armchair. She noticed that the fingers on both his hands had dug into the fabric of the armrests.

‘Is this burglary really bothering you, Reg?’ she enquired. ‘Because I saw from the crime report that you didn’t want a visit from Victim Support, but we can easily change that … you might find it helpful. In addition, I can near enough guarantee that, whoever it was, they won’t come back. I mean, they got what they came for straight away, didn’t they? Apparently, they didn’t make a mess looking round for anything else.’

‘No … they didn’t make a mess.’ He rummaged in his trouser pocket, producing a lump of crumpled tissue. Lifting his glasses, he dabbed at his eyes. ‘They got what they came for, all right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know this is a big loss for you.’

‘Well …’ With a visible struggle, he tried to get himself together. ‘Bits of metal at the end of the day. Not like they took Daisy herself, is it?’

He dabbed his eyes again.

Lucy could do nothing but sit and wait while he recomposed himself.

‘Not be long before I join her,’ he said. ‘Then it won’t matter, will it?’

‘Oh, I think you’re good for a few years yet. Can I make you a cup of tea, or something?’

‘No … it’s all right, love. I’m going out soon. Still get up to the Railway Club of an afternoon. Regular as clockwork. Even weekends. Legs haven’t gone yet.’

He made a show of sitting back, as if trying to get comfortable, and readjusted his glasses, all the time watching her.

He’s waiting for me to leave, Lucy realised.