‘No, none at all.’ Jazz sat down on the sofa and Jenny perched nervously on the edge of the chair opposite. ‘I just felt that it would be better to discuss this matter with you in private.’

‘Oh Inspector, what on earth is it?’ Jenny looked terrified.

‘Well, I’ll come straight to the point,’ Jazz said gently. ‘I went to visit Lady Emily Conaught last night. And she told me about you and Corin Conaught. And the baby you gave birth to forty years ago.’

Jenny looked as though she’d been slapped across the face. Her eyes welled up with tears and she sat silently, saying nothing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jazz apologised. ‘I know this must be a painful subject for you to talk about, but I’m afraid I need to know if Emily Conaught was right. And you were the mother of Corin’s child?’

Jenny nodded numbly. She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.

‘She also intimated you didn’t find out you were pregnant until after Corin died?’

Again Jenny could only nod.

‘And Hugh Daneman helped you?’ Jazz asked.

‘Yes, yes he did,’ Jenny managed to whisper. ‘He was ever so kind, I don’t know what I’d have done without him at the time. He sorted me out, and afterwards, got me a job here at St Stephen’s. I couldn’t face going back home, see, not with Mum and Dad living and working on the Conaught Estate, and all.’

‘No, I can imagine,’ said Jazz quietly. ‘So, the baby was adopted?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was it a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy.’ Jenny wiped her eyes. ‘Yes, a lovely little boy.’

‘Right.’ Jazz felt a small surge of adrenalin run through her. ‘Jenny, do you have any idea who adopted him?’

Jenny shook her head. ‘No. They were very strict on all that, the nuns were. Thought it was better if us mums didn’t know where they were going. And they were right. What would be the point? It wasn’t going to get our babies back, was it?’ Jenny blew her nose loudly. ‘Worst day of my life, that, giving birth and a few hours later, my baby being gone. And still being so sore, and then the milk coming in, and the nuns binding you until it stopped . . . Sorry, Inspector, you don’t want to know about that.’

‘Jenny’ – Jazz leaned forward as she spoke, deciding to test her theory – ‘did you, by any chance, give the nuns anything to pass on to your baby’s new parents?’

‘Oh no, they wouldn’t have allowed anything like that.’ She shook her head, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.

‘Are you sure, Jenny?’

‘Yes, yes, I didn’t give the nuns nothing. Promise.’

Jazz tried again. ‘All right then. I’ll put it another way: did you, for example, manage to hide something on the baby? That might be found by the new parents, and perhaps kept for a day when the child was older and might want to discover his birth-right?’