“You mean he walked out whilst you were talking?” Lizzie said. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

“Nah,” Dudley said. “He literally disappeared. I mean, he must have slipped out when my back was turned but it was like he just vanished. That was why I said he was like a ghost. Fucking weird kid.”

“Right,” Lizzie said.

“They’re all bad news,” Dudley said. “Anna’s nearly as bad. I’m sure I saw her that day at Oakhangar, when Amelia—” He stopped.

“When Amelia what?” Lizzie said.

“Nothing,” Dudley said. He sounded frightened suddenly. “I dunno. I haven’t seen Anna. I’m confused.”

Lizzie had never been able to read Dudley’s mind in her entire life, but she knew that in that moment he had been about to say “when Amelia died.” A whisper of fear crept down her spine. She felt colder than she ever had before. Had Dudley been at Oakhangar that day? Had Anna? Whatever had happened, she knew she’d get no sense from him now. Dudley would admit nothing.

She could hear the roar of the party behind him and the sound of Dudley’s breathing and the moment hung on a knife’s edge.

“You take care, Dudley,” Lizzie said carefully. “I’ve got to go now.”

She cut the connection and dropped the phone on the bed. Then she sat down next to it, took the little silver phoenix charm in her hand and tried to work out what she had to do.

Lizzie drove slowly through Oakhangar village, mindful of both the twistiness of the road and her unfamiliarity with the car. She was glad she hadn’t fallen for the salesgirl’s talk and hired herself something flashier. She liked sports cars but they weren’t great on country roads and she hadn’t driven for years. It had been scary enough simply getting from the hire company in Witney to Oakhangar, twelve miles away.

Oakhangar village was pretty but not in the chocolate box way Lizzie had come to expect from further west in the Cotswolds. The stone was greyer here and the buildings looked colder and more austere than the honey gold cottages of Burford. Even though the sun was shining and the day was tranquil and warm, Lizzie felt chilled but that was hardly surprising. The anticipation of what she was about to do was like ice in her blood. She took a left turn by the Barley Mow pub, passing a high wall. Ahead of her the lane opened up to a parking area beside a stone arch in the wall. ALL SAINTS CHURCH was carved at the top of the wooden noticeboard. An uneven flagged path led to the church door.

On impulse, Lizzie stopped the car and got out to read the plaque by the gate. It was exactly as Avery had told her: the information board stated that both All Saints Church and Oakhangar Hall had been extensively rebuilt by Lord Basing in the early nineteenth century using stone from his ruined manor at Cumnor, a few miles away. The archway to the left of the plaque had come from the chapel at Cumnor Hall. A carved stone angel with luxuriant wings clasping a harp looked down on Lizzie benignly.