And so was knowing that she, Marnie, must have walked close to, or even over Alice’s quiet grave thousands of times, the soles of her feet compacting the soil. How could Alice have been so close and Marnie not have realised? How could she not have known?

The funfair had been where John Morahan spent most of his time, and consequently was the part of the park Marnie knew best. It was old-fashioned by modern standards, colourful and kitsch, like an advert for the 1970s, the rides surrounded by gardens, everything brightly painted, from the little white picket fences around the flowerbeds to the candy-striped inverted cone roofs on top of the kiosks. It was almost always noisy and crowded; and did not seem like the kind of place that might be hiding a terrible secret.

Where had Alice been exactly, Marnie wondered, walking the funfair in her mind, trying to remember the details.

There used to be four main attractions: the carousel itself, a valuable antique Bordelaise; the rickety flume, which Camille deVillars’ parents, the founders of the park, had had built to their own bespoke specifications; the fun-house and the dodgem cars, together with a kiosk where customers could exchange cash for tokens to ride, and another that sold drinks, ices and snacks. The structures were surrounded by established gardens, flowerbeds and lawns, which wove in and out of the rides, making a kind of wonderland. There were benches where people could sit and rest and watch the fun, while bees buzzed and birds sang in the trees, encouraged, always, by a prolificacy of feeders. There was even a pond, a little stream, an island, a wishing well, goldfish and ducks.

The bones must have been discovered beneath one of the garden areas, because the rides were, of necessity, built on solid bases.

The funfair had been enclosed by a high fence, meant to resemble a Wild West stockade. Inside the fence were borders designed by Mrs deVillars. These were twelve feet wide in places, with a narrow space behind for the gardeners – Marnie’s father aided by Will – to attend to the tall plants and trees at the back without having to walk through the medium-sized and shorter flowering plants at the front. The gardens used constantly to evolve, as old or diseased trees were removed and straggly bushes replaced. In the last few years, before she became too ill, Mrs deVillars had begun to turn the gardens into a wildlife haven, slowly replacing all the non-native plants and letting the lawns run to meadow, but back then they were more manicured and organised.

Wouldn’t someone have noticed if a grave had been dug?

Clearly nobody had looked hard enough.