‘Of course, who doesn’t these days? But it’s at school.’ Adele took a sip of her gin. ‘I suppose I’ll have to think about collecting his things.’

‘Well, if you’d rather, once we’ve had a look through them, we could have them sent on to you.’

‘Would you?’ Adele’s face relaxed a little. ‘Call me a coward, but the thought of setting foot anywhere near that place and having to suffer the false look of sympathy on that bumptious headmaster’s face fills me with horror.’

‘You’re not a coward, Mrs Cavendish. People grieve in different ways.’ Instinctively, Jazz put her arm on Adele’s shoulder.

‘It’s the endless stream of visitors and the sympathy cards. I can’t even bring myself to open them.’ Adele indicated a stack of envelopes lying on the hall table. ‘I know people are trying to be kind, but it makes it so real.’ She looked up at Jazz, her face agonised. ‘He was everything to me, you know, everything.’

‘I don’t have any children, so I can only imagine. But, there are counsellors available to help . . .’

‘God no!’ Adele replied, visibly pulling herself together. She stood up. ‘I don’t need anyone patronising me or spouting psycho-babble. Of course I’ll cope. What choice do I have?’ she said simply. ‘Now, I expect you want to get on.’

Jazz stood up, too, and followed Adele to the front door.

‘You’ll be in touch when you have any news?’ Adele opened the front door.

‘Of course. Goodbye, Mrs Cavendish.’ Jazz turned and walked down the steps. The door closed on her abruptly.

Jazz drove carefully along the drive, away from the beautiful house in its spectacular setting and the desolate occupant within.

Adele Cavendish walked back across the hall and into the kitchen. She topped up her glass with gin and took a large swig. Then she pulled her mobile out of her handbag and dialled a number.

‘It’s me. She’s been. Yes, it was terrible. When you see her, for God’s sake, don’t say anything. I just . . . well, I can hardly bear it.’ She paused to listen for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I know you won’t.’

She hung up and the fleeting ghost of a smile crossed her lips, disappearing almost immediately at the thought of the dreadful guilt she would have to endure for the rest of her life.

Chapter Five

The following morning, Jazz peered out of her window and saw the deserted Salthouse Road. Miles should have been here to collect her at seven thirty, a good half an hour ago. She’d got his voicemail when she’d rung his mobile, a fact that comforted her, as it probably meant he was somewhere nearby but couldn’t get a signal. She’d left him a terse message. If he didn’t turn up in the next ten minutes, she’d have to drive to St Stephen’s in her Mini and get him to meet her there.

The first morning working with another constabulary was not the moment to tip up late.