There was a pause on the line. Then Jenny said, ‘Julian Forbes? Why do you ask?’

‘I just wondered if you remembered him. He’s the partner of Angelina Millar, Rory’s mother.’

‘Is he really? Well, I never knew that.’

‘Do you remember him?’

‘I . . . well yes, I do, but I didn’t know him well.’

Jazz could hear the reticence in Jenny’s voice.

‘And one last thing: do you know anything about this tale that seems to be circulating the school, about the boy who was found hanged in the cellar?’

‘No . . . I . . . not really, no,’ Jenny replied cagily.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I mean, it did happen, but I don’t really know much about it.’

‘You mean, it happened during your time at the school?’

‘Yes, but . . . Inspector Hunter, it’s not my place to tell you. Mr Jones knows much more than me.’

‘It was a suicide, was it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you remember the name of the boy?’

There was a pause on the line. Then Jenny said reluctantly, ‘He was called Jamie.’

‘Surname?’ Jazz asked.

‘Inspector, I think you should ask Mr Jones about this, really I do. I’d . . . prefer not to talk about it.’

Jazz could see she wasn’t going to get anything further. ‘Thanks for your help, Jenny. Can you tell Mr Jones I’ll be along as soon as I can to see him?’

‘I will, Inspector. My telephone’s not stopped ringing all day. Thank you for calling. Goodbye.’

Jenny put the telephone down and stared into space. Why was the past coming back now? And why was the inspector interested in what had happened all those years ago? Not to mention Julian Forbes . . .

Did she know what had happened?

Jenny shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Was it wrong for her to have mentioned Jamie’s name?

Surely not? After all, what had happened was a matter of public record . . .

But it wasn’t for her to tell.

The curtains in the downstairs windows of the small cottage were still drawn when Jazz arrived in front of it. She knocked a couple of times to no response, then finally, she heard movement from inside.

‘Who is it?’ asked a familiar voice.

On hearing it, Jazz’s theory was confirmed.

‘Inspector Hunter. Can I have a word, Mrs Cavendish?’

The door was unlocked and Adele Cavendish stood on the threshold in front of her.

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘I saw you a few days ago, here in Cley, parked on the main street, unloading your shopping. May I come in?’ Adele agreed reluctantly and led Jazz into a compact but cosy sitting room.

‘So . . .’ Adele made no move to offer Jazz a seat. ‘Have you news about Charlie?’

‘No, though I’m hoping to have very soon. But that’s not why I’m here.’

Adele folded her arms defensively. ‘Well, if you’re not here about Charlie, what do you want?’