‘Prisha, obviously.’ Morag looked at him. ‘When it comes to her I can do no right. I do hope you are rational enough to give it no credence.’

‘I’m not here to satisfy the suspicions of individual members of the family, but I am here to follow where the evidence leads.’

Morag’s mouth hung open. ‘What evidence do you have against me? I adored Mrs Roy, she taught me almost everything I know about business. I admired her as a woman who fought incredible odds to make it in a man’s world. She encouraged me and nurtured me.’

‘Until you began a relationship with her son.’

Morag folded her arms and eyed Gillard suspiciously. ‘Look, I’m quite happy to tell you the story of my relationship with Harry, if it’s at all relevant.’

‘It might help if you did.’

Morag settled herself into the sofa. ‘I met Harry more than fifteen years ago on my first day at Essex University. He was a year above me, and of course already had a fair amount of cash to throw about, courtesy of his parents. He was studying chartered accountancy, I was reading business and management. We met at one of those departmental parties in which freshers get plied with enormous amounts of alcohol and end up with a thick head in the room of somebody they don’t know.’

‘So you ended up in Harry’s room?’

‘Yes, but it’s not like it sounds. We were in the same hall of residence. I had a crush on his roommate, a tall blond Dutchman, Adriaan, who never noticed me. I was never one of the glamour girls, far too pale and spotty, but in those early days I trailed around behind Ad hoping he would spot me. Inevitably, I found myself spending a lot of mealtimes sitting with Harry and his friends, hoping to get closer to my crush. I got incorporated into their circle, which I found comforting given my failure to make any inroads on Ad. Harry often ended up in my room because Ad had got some glamorous girl or other in there. We became firm friends first, and then something more. Harry was always a very happy-go-lucky and cheerful individual, and of course a lot of his friends weren’t truly admirers but enjoyed the fact he always picked up the tab.’

Gillard was willing her to fast forward a little bit more to relevant times, but had to concede that her fondness for Harry Roy seemed entirely genuine.

‘That first summer, Harry managed to get me a job in the packing hall of Empire of Spice, where I was one of the very few non-Indian staff. The pay wasn’t great, it was as hot as hell, but I needed the money. Harry’s mother came and sought me out one time after a few weeks, and give be one of those shrewd almost forensic one-minute interviews about my ambitions and background. She seemed rather impressed that my father had been a coal miner and my mother a home help. It’s not a reaction I had experienced before.