‘I’m sorry. I’m telling you how to do your job. Please can you email me Nick’s bank statements? I want to go through them.’

I hang up and go in search of Cora. She’s in Lottie’s bathroom, bent over the bath, a green sponge in one hand, a bottle of lemon-scented cream cleaner in the other.

‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ I say, trying to sound friendly. ‘You know Lottie cleans her own bathroom.’

Cora turns and smiles. ‘She’s a child. Now, if you want to do something helpful, you could strip our bed. I’ve noticed you do have some clean linen in the cupboard.’

I stare at her, my mouth gaping. I want to respond, what did your last slave die of? but refrain, instead telling her, politely, what I’ve talked to Marsh about, and that he’s going to speak to her old friends, Jess and Sean Wells.

‘I need to talk to Jess first,’ she says, dropping the sponge into the bath and getting to her feet. She peels off her rubber gloves and rubs the small of her back.

‘I got the impression you weren’t on speaking terms,’ I say.

She hesitates at the door. ‘This is important. We’re all involved in this whether we like it or not. Jess and I were close once. I can’t believe she won’t care about what I’m going through.’

I feel a tiny twinge of compassion for this intelligent, bitter woman, although she evidently feels little for me. It must be sad when you lose a close female friend, sadder than losing a lover. If Cassie dumped me, I’d be devastated.

I follow her downstairs and make us both a cup of tea while she takes the phone into the front room. Jess is obviously prepared to speak to her, because I can hear the murmurings of conversation. I go out into the hall and stand close to the sitting-room door, not quite putting my ear against it, but almost. The floor creaks and I wince, holding my breath.

‘Grace thinks he may have gone to Devon,’ Cora says. ‘To the house … Why am I calling you? To tell you … Well, no, I know it’s nothing to do with you but … Jess. Look, I’m sorry, I was just reaching out. It’s been so long … What? No. No, of course we can’t. Well, if that’s the way you feel—’ She breaks off and says, ‘Jesus. What a bitch.’

I nip back into the kitchen and pretend to be rummaging through my bag. I glance over my shoulder when she comes back in. ‘So, what did she say?’

‘You were listening, weren’t you?’ Cora says.

She picks up her book and, without waiting for her tea, takes it upstairs.