‘I visited Alder Hall earlier today,’ said Cooper. ‘You’re familiar with the statue, I take it?’

‘I used to visit her regularly when I lived at the hall. When I was very small, my grandfather took me to look at her. I recall that I was bit scared of her at first. Grandfather told me I’d be a beautiful lady just like her when I grew up. But I didn’t want to be a statue and stand alone in the woods all day. I thought she looked rather unhappy. But I got to know her better over the years.’

‘Have you been back since your family left the hall?’

‘To see Fair Flora? No, I haven’t.’

‘Not at all?’

She turned cool grey eyes on him in silent reproach. ‘I just said so. Why do you ask?’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Chadwick. But somebody has been leaving flowers at the statue. I wondered if it might have been you.’

‘Why on earth would I do that?’

But Cooper didn’t answer. He was looking around her garden. It was too big to see everything from one spot. There were more flower beds beyond the trees and alongside the lawns.

‘Do you grow chrysanthemums?’ he asked.

Mrs Chadwick gave a faint smile. ‘White ones, perhaps?’

‘Yes. How did you know I was going to ask that?’

‘Come this way.’

She began to walk towards the lawn. For a moment, Cooper paused to admire the way she managed to move so elegantly despite wearing sensible flat shoes and jeans worn and baggy at the knees. Then he followed her down a short flight of stone steps into an arbour, where white and yellow chrysanthemums grew in profusion.

‘Mrs Chadwick, how did you know it was white chrysanthemums I was interested in?’ said Cooper.

Madeleine Chadwick laid a finger alongside the tight, curved petals of a chrysanthemum head, not quite touching it as she had the rose. The colour of the flower almost matched her fingers. But the petals were stiff and brittle, like clusters of fragile bones.

‘White is for death,’ she said. ‘I do know that. White chrysanthemums are the flowers you order for a funeral.’

She smiled at him again, expectantly this time. Cooper sensed a hot prickling on the back of his neck. The sun was warm in this sheltered arbour, and he wasn’t dressed for the heat. Besides, he was starting to feel at a disadvantage, and he wasn’t sure why. He was used to dealing with people from all backgrounds, but Madeleine Chadwick’s air of secret knowledge unsettled him. Her superiority seemed effortless. It was nothing like the smugness of Freddy Robertson, who worked so hard at trying to be superior.

‘I don’t think I ever explained what enquiry I’m working on,’ said Cooper.

‘I don’t believe you did.’

‘Then how …?’