He nodded. ‘He was a bit of a bad lad in his younger days by all accounts. Beth told me he’d had a few problems with drugs and such when he was at college. From what I could make out, she sort of took him under her wing. That’s why she took him on when she started digging and he pitched up here.’

Clare said, ‘I had no idea.’

‘Neil’s a good lad now, though. He’s sorted himself out. I didn’t take much to schooling and I know some of the youngsters reckon I’m a bit lacking up ’ere.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘But Neil’s never been like that. He’s always had time for me. We’ve had one or two good nights round the fire talking about the old ways over a pint of cider. He’s not one to poke fun at folks just cos they’re different. And he works damned ’ard too. Even if that missus of his is always giving him grief.’

Clare said, ‘Is she? Neil’s never mentioned anything.’

‘He wouldn’t, would he? Man’s got his pride. She’s always on at him to pack this lark in. Don’t reckon there’s a future in it.’ Crabby shook his head. ‘That’s the trouble with young folk these days, it’s all about the money. But Neil, he’s different. Suppose that’s why Beth took to him.’

Was that what had sparked Stuart Craig’s apparent jealousy? Had Craig resented the time Beth had taken straightening the young Neil Fuller out? Maybe Craig’s version of Beth had as much to do with the lack of attention he’d felt she’d paid him, and the time she’d invested in helping Neil as an undergrad, as it did with her obsession with the long-dead. It was beginning to seem as if everyone had known a different Beth Kinsella.

‘That was a proper treat. Thank you.’ Crabby sat back contentedly, his bowl now with only the faintest traces of treacle tart and vanilla ice cream clinging to its sides in front of him.

‘My pleasure, Crabby. Glad you enjoyed it.’