Gathering her courage, she clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I was hoping to speak to you about the incident between yourself and Mr Cowley.’

His flabby jowls reddened and wobbled as he shook his head. ‘That’s none of your concern, Miss Moore. Or the school’s.’

‘I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m here as a friend and neighbour of—’ She was going to say Nick’s but didn’t think that level of familiarity would actually help matters. ‘Of both of you. I wondered if there was any way we could sort this whole thing out without the involvement of the police.’

‘The police are already involved.’

‘Yes, I know, but—’

‘How do you know?’

‘They spoke to him at Bluebell Park yesterday. I was there.’

This seemed to amuse Mr Cole. ‘Good. Hopefully it embarrassed him as much as he tried to humiliate me.’ He stressed the word tried. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing more to say. The police are dealing with it.’ He stood and motioned to the living-room door.

Bella stood too, determined to keep trying until he forcibly removed her from the premises. ‘Mr Cole, it isn’t good for anyone to go down this road. It’s more stress on you and your family, and stress on Mr Cowley and his son. If he does go to prison, his son will lose a father.’

‘That’s tough luck. His mother shouldn’t have run off.’

Hearing him say something so cruel stiffened her resolve. ‘No, she shouldn’t, but that’s neither Freddie’s nor Nick’s fault. He didn’t hit you, Mr Cole, and you did put your hands on him first. I’m sure the police will take that into account.’ Though she knew she was risking at the very least, a big telling-off and, at worst, the sack, she added, ‘You were waving your fist in his face, which I’m told could also be classed as assault.’

‘What? What nonsense.’

‘I’m afraid it isn’t.’ She’d only got that information this morning from some random solicitor’s webpage, so she hoped it was true. It had certainly rattled him more than anything else she’d said.

‘I’m happy to wait for the police’s decision. Now, if there’s nothing else.’

Just as she was about to leave, the living-room door opened and she feared the arrival of Mrs Cole, but instead a rather voluptuous blonde-haired lady who was very much not Mr Cole’s wife slipped through the gap in the door wearing nothing but a black lace negligee. It was the type of nightwear no one actually sleeps in and is only bought at the beginning of relationships for naughty weekends away. She wondered if Pepper had worn something like this during that weekend in Leeds but found the pain didn’t stab anywhere near as harshly as it had before.

‘Where’s my big beasty-boy? I – oh—’