Andrew Buckley looks at me sharply. ‘As I’ve explained, Hollie had a number of problems. I’m not sure he does come into it.’

Something flashes in his eyes. Too used to calling the shots, he doesn’t like it when it’s the other way around. ‘That’s not what James Hampton said.’ Determined to keep him focused, I watch him closely. When he doesn’t respond, I add, ‘Don’t worry. If there’s nothing more you can tell me, I can talk to your wife.’

‘There’s no need.’ His voice is calm, his words measured – and loaded with contempt. Knowing he’s cornered, Andrew Buckley makes no attempt to hide his loathing. ‘To be honest, it’s quite surprising the police haven’t found out before.’ Despite his attempt to somehow turn this around and make it look as though it’s the police who have done something wrong, it’s obvious I’ve hit on something. ‘Dylan and Hollie thought they were in love – as much as two teenagers can really be in love.’ He speaks disparagingly. ‘They went off the rails, as anyone you ask will tell you. They weren’t good for each other. Hollie was difficult and when he met her, Dylan lost interest in everything else.’

I still don’t understand the secrecy around Dylan. ‘So what happened? All I know is he left. Do you know where he is?’

‘Dylan died,’ he says shortly. ‘After he and Hollie split up, he took an overdose. It was a ludicrous waste of a life. He was sixteen years old. There’s a lot about that girl people don’t know. She really messed Dylan up when she left him. I probably shouldn’t say this, but to be honest, I’m quite glad she’s out of Niamh’s life.’

He speaks cynically, bitterly, as though he blames Hollie for Dylan’s death on some level. I’m astonished that in a small village, no-one else has thought to mention this. That sense of the villagers closing ranks I had before comes back to me. ‘You knew his family?’

A shadow crosses his face as he speaks through gritted teeth. ‘He was my son.’

I’m shocked. ‘I had no idea.’