He arrived in Rye an hour after his GPS promised and drove through the narrow town wall gate, clipping his side mirror in the process, before parking his car on a steep lane that petered out in what looked to be a courtyard shared between the village church and a cottage. Heading off on foot in search of the B&B, he passed the same pub patrons at least five times before one of them pointed him in the direction of the Red Goose. Dr Walden was out for the evening, which meant that Bish was forced to spend the night in a room too small for someone not born in the seventeenth century and stunted by famine.

Next morning, Dr Walden’s wife proved to be like most B&B hosts he’d come across by giving him an excess of local information.

‘. . . and then I’d finish on Winchelsea Beach. Glorious in this sunshine. Let me get you a couple of maps.’

Bish smiled politely. ‘And would you tell Dr Walden I’d like to say hello?’ he said.

She looked at him with curiosity. ‘Then you know Owen?’

‘A mutual friend whose baby he delivered at St Therese’s told me to look him up here.’

‘Of course,’ she said, and left to get his maps, while he pocketed a few of the marmalade samples.

When Owen Walden finally stood before Bish after the breakfast rush he was wary. Bish felt studied, judged, dismissed, then reluctantly studied all over again.

‘I’ve seen you on the telly,’ the doctor said.

‘You may well have. My daughter was on that bus in France,’ he said, extending a hand. ‘Bish Ortley. I’ve been sort of dragged in as a spokesperson for the parents.’

‘The media seem to be reporting a whole lot of nonsense,’ Walden said. And when Bish agreed, the man added, ‘Emma mentioned we have a mutual friend whose baby I delivered.’

‘Yes, at St Therese’s. Noor LeBrac.’

At the mention of the name, Bish could see that Owen Walden had a story to tell but wasn’t quite sure whether Bish was a man to trust.

‘I’ve been waiting for this moment. No one’s ever come asking about her. Until now, with those kids off all over the place.’

‘Her kids?’ Bish prompted.

Walden took a moment to reply. ‘I’m presuming you’re in contact with people who know all the answers, so why come to me?’

‘Because I have a feeling you’ll give me the straight-out truth and they won’t,’ he said.

Owen Walden seemed to like the response. He sat down.

‘You knew something the rest of the world didn’t,’ Bish said. ‘Did it ever worry you?’

The doctor dismissed this with a wave of his hand. ‘I don’t think it was top secret. She may have been in solitary confinement but there would have been a handful of people who knew she was pregnant. Granted, the authorities didn’t want people to know. It would have earned her sympathy, and someone had to pay for what happened. True?’