It was a large but cosy room with exposed stone and brick walls, except beneath the stairs where the plasterboard wall was covered with dark paper that looked like a window covered with shiny raindrops. The kitchen was well-equipped and the granite worktops were cluttered with jars, cereal boxes, tea towels and a plate of mince pies. On the breakfast bar stood a half-empty bottle of wine, along with two glasses and a bowl of crisps.

James could see that the family had been embracing the festive spirit before death descended upon the farmhouse. It would surely have been sudden and unexpected, and he couldn’t even imagine what might have triggered it.

He also spotted an acrylic knife block with six slots, one of which was empty. The black handles matched the one jutting out of Charlotte’s body.

James turned then to the living room, which was typical of other farmhouses he’d been in. There was an open fireplace, two long, deep sofas with wooden armrests, a glass coffee table, and in the far corner a Christmas tree that almost touched the ceiling. The lights on it were glowing and the decorations matched those that were positioned around the room.

It didn’t look as though the room had been ransacked. There were unopened presents on the floor in front of the tree and nothing seemed out of place except for the fragments of glass that were spread over the floor between the bodies.

A key question that would need to be answered by the pathologist was when the deaths occurred. It was obviously before the family got around to opening their presents on Christmas Day, and from the state of the victims and the awful smell, James wouldn’t rule out Christmas Eve as a likely time of death.

‘My heart goes out to the woman who stumbled on this,’ a familiar voice said behind him. ‘It’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.’

James turned and immediately recognised Tony Coppell, the chief forensic officer, even though he was wearing a mask and hood.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ James said. ‘I’ve seen plenty of gory crime scenes over the years, but this one ranks among the worst of them.’

‘I haven’t seen so much blood since our regular visits to Kirkby Abbey a year ago,’ Coppell said. ‘We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us.’

‘Have you been upstairs yet?’

Coppell nodded. ‘All nice and tidy. Beds are made and some of the lights are switched on, just as they are down here. That suggests the killings took place after dark.’

‘Care to estimate how long the bodies have been here?’ James asked him.

‘You need the pathologist to provide an accurate time of death, but based on their condition I’d say two or three days.’