Simon seemed amused by the disruption to the family routine and by his parents’ dumbstruck stillness. ‘Coffee, Inspector? Or would you prefer tea? Hannah decided she was OK to stay here last night, so we thought we’d give it a go.’ He reached over and touched the girl’s hand.

Vera thought Hannah didn’t look up to making any decisions of her own. ‘Tea, please, pet. Strong as you like. My sergeant here likes coffee.’ She turned to Simon’s father. ‘We’ve not been introduced. My name’s Vera Stanhope. Inspector with Northumbria Police serious crime squad.’ When the man made no answer she added: ‘I know you’ve been away, but you have heard there’s been a murder in the valley?’

‘Of course.’ He was shocked at last to speech. ‘Hannah’s mother. A terrible tragedy.’ The voice was lovely, deep and resonant. A singer’s voice.

‘Did you know her well?’

‘Not well. We’d met a few times of course, through the children.’ He stood up, brushed a crumb from the grey suit trousers and took his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I must go, I’m afraid. A meeting at nine.’ His body was younger than his face. Vera wondered if he went to the gym. She hadn’t asked if he was a member of the Willows, but surely the name would have been flagged up when the list had been requested. Assume nothing, she told herself, and made a mental note to check. It seemed that everyone involved in the case had a link to the Willows. The place was like the centre of a spider’s web.

‘Does the name Danny Shaw mean anything to you?’

He stopped with his hand on the table. She could smell his aftershave. His fingernails were obsessively clean. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’

He left the room then, without waiting to find out why she was asking. She found his lack of curiosity very odd and stared after him through the open kitchen door. She’d expected him to go upstairs to clean his teeth, perhaps to collect papers for work. There were still questions she had to ask him. But instead he stooped to pick up his briefcase, which was standing in the hall, and left the house. It seemed to her that he was running away. She was tempted to call him back, but after all they knew where he’d be and the gesture would have seemed ridiculous. Much better to go to his office and talk to him alone. She’d already checked that he was out of the country the day Jenny Lister died. They heard the sound of his car, the tyres crunching on the gravel.

With his departure, Veronica came to life. ‘What’s so urgent, Inspector, that you’re disturbing us at this hour in the morning?’