Gemma felt alarmed at the vehemence of her tone. That was a reaction all right.

‘I saw something on line. A video interview with some record company guy – Iain McSomething – who claims you are. Or were, last year.’

Meredith dropped the ladle back into the pan, stew splattering with a sizzle over the Aga’s hotplates. When she turned round, her face was green with shock. ‘What? Show me.’

‘I’ll get my laptop. Hold on.’

Gemma galloped back into the front room and grabbed the laptop. When she re-entered the kitchen ten seconds later, Meredith had filled a glass of red to the brim and was sitting, legs splayed, on one of the kitchen chairs, swigging at it. Her eyes were pink and she was blinking furiously. ‘I’m not crying,’ she said. ‘I’m livid. How fucking dare he?’

Gemma navigated back to the TMZ clip. ‘I think he let it slip,’ she said as they watched in silence. ‘Look at his face when he says it. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.’

‘He hired a private detective to find me,’ Meredith said in a strained voice.

‘You knew?’

‘I knew he wanted me to do these stupid gigs, because he found my phone number and rang me up last year. I told him where to stick his offer, obviously. But I can’t believe he then let it go out on the internet as if it was actually a done deal! He’s the most arrogant dickhead I’ve ever met. He was, twenty-five years ago, and he still is. I just can’t believe it. Can I sue him? Let me see that again.’

They watched the clip a second time, Meredith’s face a mask as she stared intently at it. Gemma kept glancing at her. She was glad she was here with the woman. Meredith increasingly seemed like someone who really did need protecting.

‘I guess it’s lucky that other media outlets didn’t pick up on it,’ Gemma said gently. ‘It could have been worse. But … if someone has been looking for you for years and they’ve seen this, it might have given them the clue they’ve needed to track you down.’ The unspoken words ‘and start killing your friends’ seemed to hang between them like a miasma.

‘Do you remember anybody ringing the shop to ask if Merry Heather worked there, or anything like that? Anything out of the ordinary at all? Any of your staff mentioning that someone was asking questions or hanging around?’

Meredith shook her head. On the Aga the stew had begun to bubble ferociously. She stood up slowly, picked up the oven gloves and lifted the pot off the burner. ‘Don’t want it to stick,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if we eat a bit later? I’ve lost my appetite.’