It’s peacefully quiet on the drive back to the cottage.

I let myself in and decide to call Dad. He picks up on the second ring.

‘Hi, sweetheart. I was going to ring you but thought it might be a bit early.’

It’s nine thirty. What is it with my parents? ‘Just wondering if you’ve had any luck with Sheila Watts?’ I ask.

From his breathing it sounds like he’s walking. I like the thought of him striding through the streets of London with perhaps a takeaway coffee, his notebook tucked away in his jacket, on his way to a job. My big, handsome dad. ‘Well, actually, I did find something,’ he says.

I stand up straighter. ‘Oh, yes?’

‘In Archives I found a file on her.’

I gasp. ‘Really? What was in the file? Was it the same Sheila?’

‘I imagine so. I’m up to my eyes finishing off a big story, so I only flicked through it. It didn’t look like much, I’m afraid. I’m surprised it hasn’t been shredded. A lot of stuff in Archives has just been forgotten about. But it might be useful. I can take some photos of it and ping them over to you?’

‘That would be great.’

‘I’ve got to go. I’m at a job, but I’ll email you later.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

I end the call intrigued to see the file.

I need to clear my head before I start work so I decide to take Snowy for a walk. He circles my legs eagerly while I retrieve his lead and clip it to his collar. Before leaving the house I peer through the small section of glass in the front door to make sure there are no journalists outside. When I see the coast is clear I open the door and step onto the driveway. Pulling my jacket on, I head for the narrow lane a few houses down that leads to the woods behind the Skelton Place properties. Mum thinks the woods are creepy and oppressive, but to me they’re beautiful and tranquil. I love the woody aroma of the trees, the damp earth, the bluebells that provide a violet carpet at this time of year, and how the sun sparkles through the leaves. I feel I can properly breathe out here, no pollution, just nature.

I trudge deeper into the woods where the trees are so dense it’s hard for any sunlight to get through and I shiver slightly in my thin jacket. Snowy pulls on his lead as we pick our way over snaking pathways and gnarled tree roots sticking out of the ground, like a network of pipes.

I’m so engrossed in my own thoughts that I don’t hear anyone behind me at first.

And then a twig snaps.