‘If I tell the Exeter police I saw the man they’re looking for in connection with the break-in at Martin’s flat and the assault on Mrs Takenaga here, at your house, they’ll want to ask you some questions. He was seen by one of the neighbours as well as Mrs Takenaga, by the way. And he does have a pretty distinctive appearance. Do you want me to do that?’

She looked straight at him. ‘I’d certainly rather you didn’t.’

‘Then tell me who he is. Tell me who he works for. Tell me what you know. Because you know something, Miranda. That’s as clear as day.’

‘I know you’d be better off forgetting all about this.’

‘But I’m not going to. I don’t think I can.’

‘That’s a pity. For both of us.’ She studied him closely as she drew on the cigarette. ‘You know, Nick, you never think, when you’re young, that the things you do – the crazy things, the unwise things, the downright wrong things – are going to catch up with you when you’re older. You think they’re over and done with. And they can seem like they are. For years. For decades. For the greater part of your entire life. And then …’

‘How can I find my father?’

‘I’m thinking of going away for Easter. I reckon I deserve a break. Maybe you should give yourself a break too.’

‘That doesn’t sound like an answer to my question.’

‘Well, some questions can’t be answered, can they? But … if you do want to go somewhere … I could suggest a destination. In return for being … left in peace.’ She caught his eye. She was offering him some kind of deal. That was what it had come down to between them.

‘Where?’

‘I need to fetch something. Wait here.’

She left the kitchen and he heard her climbing the stairs. There was a creak from the floorboards of the room above him. He couldn’t tell what she was doing. He picked up her coffee cup and sniffed it. There was a definite aroma of whisky cutting through the coffee. She was hiding it well, but she was under a lot of strain. And Nick wasn’t the cause of most of it. What kind of message had the Irishman delivered to Baroness Cushing? And who was the message from?

He heard her coming back down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen, empty-handed. She crossed to the French windows leading out into the garden and signalled for him to follow.

A few seconds later, they were standing on the patio, with birdsong and breeze around them. There was a wrought-iron table and a pair of chairs close by.

‘Any particular reason we’ve come out here?’ Nick asked.