At once I knew how I would have behaved in such a situation. He would have shoved whatever he found onto the passenger seat … or under it! I darted to the front of the car and looked inside through the open window. Even in the half-dark I could see the blood on the dashboard. I tried to blank it out. Hurriedly I reached in and felt around on the soft leather of the luxurious car. Nothing on the seat. I reached further and felt around …

My fingers curled around the handle of a small case. At full stretch I pulled it free and it was all I could do not to yell with triumph as I stared upon the Dictaphone. I stuffed it into my jacket and hurried back towards the light.

‘Find it, love?’ shouted Gordon, as I nodded to Felicity and moved swiftly towards the road.

‘Yes, thanks so much! I’ll tell Cranham how much help you were!’

He gave a little salute and I looped my arm through Felicity’s – hurrying her up the road and breathing heavily. When we were out of sight I opened my coat and showed her what I had found.

‘Open it!’ she said, excitedly.

I did as I was bid. Slid open the soft leather of the case and stared upon the smart plastic device with its speaker and earphones – its wheels and plastics and dials.

‘There’s a reel inside,’ I said, softly.

She nodded but said nothing. She was staring at the inscription, written in black ink, on the soft white inside flap of the case.

I read it aloud, lips barely moving; voice softer than the breeze.

For my dear friend Fairfax. Thank you for listening and for helping me bury what belongs beneath the earth. Please keep this memento of our friendship, with my deepest gratitude. Your comrade.

FELICITY

Transcript 0009, recorded October 30, 2010

There were an imprint of a bird on the kitchen window. You couldn’t see it at first – it was just a smudge on the glass. But if you angled your head you could make out the shape of wings and beak and eyes. It was too big for a hedgerow bird. Cordelia thought it might have been a pigeon. We checked around in the back garden in case the poor thing was in misery but we didn’t even find a feather. That seemed important, somehow. All these years later I can’t really tell you what we were thinking but I do know it mattered to both of us that we didn’t listen to the recording until we had made sure we weren’t about to be interrupted by the sudden grisly flapping of broken wings.

‘Maybe it’s been carried off,’ said Cordelia, peering under the big leaves of the rhubarb bushes. ‘Cats, maybe. A fox?’