Sydney began weeping, saying through the tears, “I’m so sorry, Granddad. I’m so—” But the tears overcame the telling.

In his calm voice, Tom said, “Never mind, Sydney. Nothing’s so bad you can’t tell me.”

“This is! I killed Mum; I mean, I’m afraid I killed her; no, I know it. Mum hadn’t told you this because she didn’t want you to worry yet, Grandad, but she was quite ill. There was a nurse, Anna, who was staying with us to care for her. But that night Anna had an emergency at the hospital and had to leave and told me just as she was going to be careful of giving Mum any pain pills. ‘In another hour, no more than two, Sydney. No more.’ It was less than an hour when Mum asked for more because of the pain. So I gave her two. But then in a few minutes she asked for more, said that the pain was unbearable. I told her I couldn’t; that Anna had said only two. But Mum kept asking and finally begging and holding on to my hand and—well, you know Mummy never complained about stuff, so this was so—I tried to call Anna at the hospital but couldn’t get hold of her and Mum was—” The weeping took Sydney over. “So—”

“You gave her some more. Sydney, it’s all right; what could you do?”

“Be stronger! Be able to step back from it. Oh, God! I’m so sorry, Granddad.” She turned not to her grandfather but to Aggrieved and lay her head against his flank.

Tom put his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t even know if that was enough of an overdose to kill her. But look at it this way, sweetheart, what we do know is that she didn’t deliberately kill herself, and God knows that’s a relief.” He hugged her.

What he’d just said calmed her. “I didn’t think … Yes, that’s true.”

Melrose knew that Tom Brownell had always known Daisy hadn’t committed suicide, but it was a good reason to come up with for Sydney’s sake.

“Thanks, Vernon,” said Sydney. “Thank you.” But it wasn’t Vernon she was patting; it was the horse.

“I was nothing but a sounding board, Sydney, and not as good a one as your horse.” Vernon laughed.

The inimitable Vernon Rice, thought Melrose. He remembered how Vernon had handled Nell Ryder. When Nell reappeared that day after having been gone for two years, it was Vernon Rice she had gone to, not her grandfather. He had that effect on people. The one you could always trust.

Absently, Sydney picked up a brush and started brushing Aggrieved. “But you knew,” she said. “Not precisely what, but that I felt guilty and you put that together with Mum.”

“You still talking to Aggrieved?”