The old man glanced automatically at a handsome grandfather clock that stood in one corner. The clock dominated the room, completely out of proportion to the size of the bungalow. Cooper guessed it must have been brought from a former home, a house with larger rooms and higher ceilings, where all the rest of the furniture was heavy and dark. But the clock ticked away steadily, a deep thunk of a pendulum echoing gently inside the mahogany case.

‘Eight thirty, or a bit later. I couldn’t be more exact than that.’

‘You were here, in your bungalow? Were people arguing outside in the street?’

Wakeley shook his head. ‘No, I went for a walk. I don’t sleep too well these days, tend to wake up about five o’clock in the morning. There’s not much else to do at that time, I can tell you. No one to talk to, nothing on the telly worth watching. And who wants to sit around with nothing but their own thoughts for company at that time of the morning?’

Not me, thought Cooper. No one was at their best at that time. He decided it might be more fruitful to let the old man talk, rather than trying too hard to pry out the details.

‘So you went out when, Mr Wakeley?’

‘About seven thirty. I used to go out earlier, at first light – cock crow, if they actually allowed anyone to have a cockerel around here. I can’t manage it now.’

‘Was there anyone around?’

‘Not a soul to be seen on the estate, a few cars moving about the village – commuters, I suppose, off to their jobs in Sheffield.’

Cooper looked at the old man. He had probably been quite a fit person once, perhaps even athletic. But now he was the giant tortoise. It would take him half an hour just to get to the end of his street.

‘And where did you walk to, sir?’

Wakeley laughed again, a dry chortle that suggested to Cooper he was making the old man’s day, probably his week. He was starting to think that he’d been given the duff job, the visit to the old fogey who just wanted a bit of attention and someone to talk to for a few minutes. There were plenty of them around.

‘I only got as far as the bench at the corner of the lane,’ he said. ‘That’s my limit these days. I used to hike up Longstone Edge without batting an eyelid, but they seem to have made it a lot higher and a lot steeper these days. I blame the government.’

‘Was it raining at that time?’

‘A bit. But a drop of rain never did anyone any harm.’

Cooper nodded. It was what he’d expected. Mr Wakeley was one of that tough breed who had almost died out, even in Derbyshire.

‘So these people you heard . . . ?’