‘She’s beautiful,’ said Cooper, giving the child a brief wave. He might learn the attraction of babies one day, but for now the appeal was lost on him. Once they could walk and talk, and look after their own toilet arrangements, he had no problem with children. But babies made him a bit nervous.

In the sitting room, Vivien Gill made him sit down in one of the armchairs, though he told her he couldn’t stay long.

‘Mrs Gill, I don’t know whether you’ve spoken to Ellen Walker today …’

‘I talked to Ellen last night. She had some idea about a picture in the paper. An artist’s impression, or something.’

‘A facial reconstruction, yes.’

‘I thought it was a daft idea myself.’

‘Did you see the picture?’

‘No. I don’t get the evening paper.’

Cooper looked out of the window and saw a man watching the street from a house opposite. Maybe that was why Mrs Gill had wanted him to sit down, so that he couldn’t be seen by nosey neighbours. She hadn’t otherwise seemed particularly hospitable. Of course, this was the Devonshire Estate, where residents were practised at recognizing a police officer, even out of uniform.

‘It was on the TV news, too,’ he said.

‘I’ve got the child to look after. I don’t spend all my time watching telly.’

‘May I show you a copy of the photo?’

Mrs Gill squinted at the picture he handed her, held it up to the light, then put it down while she found her glasses. ‘It doesn’t look human,’ she said. ‘It’s just a clay model, painted up.’

‘Does it bear any resemblance to your daughter?’

‘No. It’s daft.’

She handed the photograph back dismissively. But Cooper noticed that her hand was shaking a little more. The baby was snivelling and getting ready to start crying, but Mrs Gill ignored it.

‘What about these items of clothing?’ said Cooper gently. ‘I’m sorry about the condition of them. Do they look familiar at all?’

Mrs Gill barely glanced at the second set of photographs. They had been taken in the mortuary after the remnants of clothing had been removed and laid out on a table. They were stained and partially rotted, and they had an air of squalor despite the mortuary lights.

The old woman turned pale, but shook her head, perhaps a little too vigorously. She looked at Cooper, then out of the window.

‘No, they mean nothing to me.’

‘One more thing,’ said Cooper, ‘and then I’ll get out of your way. Could you tell me what doctor your daughter went to?’

Mrs Gill breathed an audible sigh of relief. Now she was on safer ground, and she didn’t question why Cooper wanted to know such information.

‘Doctor? Well, the same one as me. Crown House Surgery, here in Edendale.’

‘And a dentist?’