Their cottage was a homely place, full of mementos from their long lives together. Anniversaries, souvenirs of different places their relatives had holidayed in, and various other bits and pieces. Being Hetty’s house, the place was of course sparkling clean and as dust-free as an open fire and an ancient dog would allow. It wasn’t to his taste, but it always felt so welcoming. Jackman loved it.

‘Get that down you, lad.’

Len Maynard was handing him a steaming glass in an intricate latticework silver holder. Jackman knew it was one of the precious Moroccan tea glasses their son, John, had brought back from North Africa, but he had no idea as to its contents. Len was a keen maker of hot toddies, served up at every season of the year. Jackman tasted honey and lemon, the rest seemed to consist of ninety-proof rum. Jackman downed it gratefully — he lived three hundred yards away and was the only policeman in the village.

‘I always felt so sorry for that little lad, Mr J,’ said Hetty. ‘You asking about them made me wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t the best start in life for a young ’un.’

Jackman pulled his copy of the image from his pocket and unfolded it. Miraculously, it was dry. ‘Is this Spiller, Hetty?’

She took her reading glasses from her cardigan pocket and put them on. ‘Oh yes, that’s him. I’d know him anywhere — right beanpole he was. Thin as a reed.’

Jackman smiled. ‘Thank you so much, Hetty.’ He lifted his glass in a toast.

‘Did he turn really bad, Mr J?’ she asked.

‘About as bad as they come, Hetty. Can’t tell you any more, you know how it is, but I really need to catch him.’

‘Well, I must say, I always believed he wasn’t quite right in the head. But I thought he had a good side too, which didn’t match up with what you heard about him. Like, he could be really gentle, especially with dogs — though he didn’t like cats at all.’ She glanced at the old dog sprawled contentedly across Jackman’s feet. ‘He loved our Albert to bits. He saw a Traveller try to steal him from our back garden once, and he really let him have it. I do have to thank him for that. And Teddy never showed signs of any injury. Jordan seemed to really care about the boy. I suppose he took his anger out on Claire. I reckon he’s one of those Jekyll and Hyde people.’

‘You could well be right, Hetty,’ said Jackman. ‘Now all I have to do is find him, but if he went off without leaving a forwarding address, that might not be too easy.’ He took a sip of the powerful toddy and felt it warm him as it went down.