‘When Christopher caught Favre, after the war, he saw the value in him. He knew names and dates and places. He was a survivor who had only worn the Milice uniform to be allowed to inflict pain. He would do whatever it took to survive. Vile as he saw him, he knew he was an asset. We wrung out every last piece of information from him and set him up with a new life in Ireland. He was Swiss, so we said. We got him a job as a numbers man at a cattle auction. He was never supposed to come to Gilsland.’

‘But he did …’

‘Audrey was struggling with the farm. She needed help. She was setting up networks of intelligence with her little postcards and her food parcels and we saw the potential for expanding it. Favre could be critical to that work. He knew people who could be persuaded to assist. And the farm would be the perfect cover.’

Cordy looks at him for a time. She is perfectly still. Her lips become a thin line.

‘He was doing it again,’ she says, without emotion. ‘Killing. Hurting. In Ireland. I’ve seen the press reports – mysterious disappearances, bodies vanishing from graves. He used what he had over you to get himself away from it and into yet another new life. After all you did to free him, he was going to cause embarrassment to your unit. A survivor like Favre would have sensed opportunity. He must have wanted more than the life you gave him in Ireland. He wanted a house and money and a little freedom. And you wanted to be able to keep an eye on him. You gave him your sister.’

Loveday swallows. He tries to hold Cordy’s gaze and then turns to the wall. ‘They deserved one another.’

Cordy looks over her shoulder to where Felicity is sitting, shaking her head.

‘When Marcel went looking for his abuser …’ begins Cordelia.

‘I told them he was coming. Questions had been asked. He was digging around.’

‘So Audrey and her husband told Fairfax their cover story. Favre said he was a victim and his torturer was on his way. You wrapped the poor sod’s brain up with guilt and barbed wire.’

‘Audrey’s work was valuable. It had to be protected …’ begins Loveday.

‘And so did your little empire,’ finishes Cordelia. ‘You dumped a killer in the middle of a community that had no idea what was living in their midst.’

‘Eventually, it would have been taken care of,’ says Loveday. ‘Christopher was already working on a solution.’

Cordelia breathes out, long and slow. She’s nodding to herself. Her long white hair makes her look somehow spectral, in the light of the yellow room. She seems half-formed. She pulls herself up, and though the action pains her, she does not let it show. She can handle pain.