A group of local women were allowed to enter the campground with fresh food to distribute to the various busloads of foreign kids, as well as to the British families. There was a practical earthiness to them that provided a comfort beyond words.

Bee was finally interviewed by Attal. She was rude in dismissing the translator. Her French, as far as she was concerned, was better than the translator’s English. Bish wasn’t happy with that arrangement and called in Saffron, who could at least translate for him. The capitaine’s questions centred on Violette. Had the girl revealed anything about her family’s identity? Had her actions spoken of anything suspicious? What did they talk about, seeing as they shared a room for six nights? Bee was surly in her responses. Angry. At one stage she demanded that Attal return the belongings of those on the bus.

‘Your suitcase is part of the investigation now,’ Bish told her patiently. He knew her anger was covering her grief. It was how Bee dealt with tragedy. Fury first and then she switched off.

Attal wasn’t going to let her go so easily. Did the other students on the bus know that Violette was a LeBrac? Did they think she was hiding something?

Bee told him that all of them knew her as Violette Zidane. A couple of them recognised the surname and asked if she was related to Zinedine Zidane, who the French kids claimed was the greatest footballer of all time. Violette ignored them, mostly. Except for the night before last, when she told a bunch of them that her uncle was a great footballer.

The questioning seemed to be over and Bee was on her feet. ‘I want to ring Mum,’ she said, holding out her hand for Bish’s mobile. He gave it to her and she left the interview room.

Attal’s eyes met his, but Bish couldn’t read anything in his expression. Not even when the capitaine reached over and gave Bish his business card, and returned the handwritten list of names.

Outside, Bee had disappeared. Bish went searching and found her sitting alone on the recreation hall steps. She had her ‘sod off’ earphones on, which meant no conversation was going to take place.

On the way to the main gate he walked ahead of Saffron and Bee and rang his ex-wife to let her know they were coming home.

‘We’ll be there by four,’ he said. ‘She’ll be relieved to see you.’

‘David says you need to let her play out the anger,’ Rachel told him.

David Maynard, being a headmaster, was the expert on Bish’s daughter and every other kid in Kent. Bish muttered a goodbye and hung up.

A moment later the phone rang. Again a blocked number. Elliot? Or one of the other parents? He picked up.

‘The LeBrac girl going missing with Eddie Conlon is a bit of a cock-up.’

Elliot hadn’t lost the art of stating the obvious.

‘I’d blame that on the friends you sent yesterday to scare her into believing they’d go after Eddie and her uncle.’