‘Wait a minute. Sorry.’ Saul seemed agitated, pressing the thumb of his right hand into the palm of his left as if trying to drill a hole in it. ‘Can you at least tell me if Ruth and Aidan are all right? Both are . . . well, I couldn’t bear to think of either of them being in any trouble.’

‘I don’t know if they’re all right,’ Charlie said, feeling awful when she saw the effect it had on him. ‘You’re better off asking whoever you’ve been dealing with from London.’

‘London? I haven’t spoken to anyone from London.’ Saul was growing twitchier by the second. ‘The policemen who came here were local. I’ve seen them going into the Brown Cow. And coming out, sometimes, very much the worse for wear. I’ve seen you with them. I can’t remember their names. One of them was tall and . . . large-ish, with a northern accent.’

‘Was the other short and dark, with a face like a vindictive rat?’ Charlie asked. Sellers and Gibbs. Coral Milward’s little helpers. They must have been beside themselves with glee when they’d found their former skipper’s misfortunes plastered all over Ruth Bussey’s bedroom wall. Charlie remembered how Milward had taunted her about those same misfortunes, and rage flared inside her. ‘Tell me about Ruth’s fight with Mary,’ she said.

Saul looked caught out. ‘I thought you said she’d told you.’

‘Mary brought in a picture to be framed, Ruth wanted to buy it, Mary didn’t want to sell?’

‘That was the essence of it, yes. Mary’s the only artist I’ve ever met who refuses to sell her work. She doesn’t even like people to see it. She once told me she’d prefer it if I could put the frames on without looking at the pictures. I told her it was impossible. Knowing what she was like, I’d never have dared to ask to buy anything, though she was extremely talented. I should have warned Ruth.’ He pressed his thumb harder into his palm. ‘Has Mary hurt Ruth again? I’ll never forgive myself if she has.’

‘ “Again”?’ said Charlie. ‘What happened between them exactly? How badly was Ruth hurt?’

‘No bones were broken, if that’s what you mean. The damage was mainly psychological. Mary pushed Ruth up against a wall, took a full cylinder of red paint and sprayed it all over her face. After which Ruth completely withdrew into her shell, wouldn’t come to work, wouldn’t speak to anyone.’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’ Charlie inclined her head, forcing him to meet her eye. ‘Listen, Ruth came to me for help last week. I think she might be in danger. Anything you tell me, anything at all, might make the difference between me finding her and not finding her.’

‘This won’t, I promise you.’