‘We need to talk.’ Vera walked straight in past her and into the kitchen as if it were her place, not Veronica’s. Ashworth followed. When Veronica hesitated, Vera barked at her, ‘Now! I’m in a hurry here.’

They sat at the kitchen table, Vera and the woman facing each other, Ashworth at the far end, his notebook discreetly on his knee. Veronica slipped her coat off her shoulders, but was still wearing the boots.

‘Where have you hidden Connie Masters?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t piss me about, lady. Her car was found in your husband’s office car park. I need to know where they are. That lass of hers’ll be scared stiff by now.’

Veronica said nothing. She stared, haughty and impassive, into the garden.

‘I know it was you who left the Nissan, and if I need to I’ll prove it. A call to every minicab firm in the Tyne valley and we’ll find someone who picked you up there and brought you back to Barnard Bridge. Because you couldn’t ask your husband for a lift, could you? You couldn’t have him asking questions.’

Still the woman remained silent. But Ashworth saw that the white hand resting on the table was trembling. Soon she would crack, he thought.

Vera leaned forward and when she spoke her voice was quite different. So low that Ashworth at the other end of the table could hardly make out the words. ‘Tell me about your baby, Veronica. Your first baby. Tell me about Matilda.’

Veronica remained completely still, but her eyes were full of tears. She blinked and they ran down her cheeks. Ashworth realized she was wearing no makeup; perhaps that was why she looked so different.

‘How old were you when you had her, Veronica? It’s in the records. The social-work records. I’ll be able to check.’

Oh, she’s already checked, Ashworth thought. That’s what the phone call was all about.

‘Fifteen,’ Veronica said. ‘I was fifteen.’

‘Teenage pregnancy was a bit different then, wasn’t it? A stigma. Especially to a family like yours. Tell me about it.’

‘The baby’s father was older than me,’ she said. ‘A mechanic. He drove a big motorbike and wore leathers, and I thought he was the most glamorous man in the world. I’d told him I was seventeen and he was horrified when he found out how young I was.’ She gave a brittle little laugh that made Ashworth want to weep. ‘He offered to marry me as soon as I was old enough. But of course that would never do for my family. Think of the disgrace.’

‘Bad enough to lose all their money,’ Vera muttered. ‘They couldn’t lose their good name too.’