When I reach Ida Jones’s cottage, I wonder if she could be that person, the keeper of the village’s secrets. Her lips are pursed as she lets me in, her unruly grey curls scraped back in a bun. She comes up to my shoulder but despite her height and age, looks strong. As she shows me into her sitting room, she gestures to the sofa.

‘Do you want to sit down?’

‘Thank you.’ The heavy dark furniture and dated three-piece suite remind me of my grandmother’s house. ‘I’m sorry to turn up unexpectedly like this, Mrs Jones. I was hoping to talk to you about Hollie Hampton.’

She nods. ‘I thought you might. But I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you.’

‘Well … you could start by telling me about her. How well you knew her. Where you saw her, what you knew about her, her relationships …’

‘She was quite a sweet young thing. But flighty, I’d say. She was friends with young Niamh, but I expect you know that. It’s hard on young ones to lose a friend.’ Her eyes mist over.

‘How well do you know the Hamptons?’

‘As well as I know everyone else in this village.’ She smiles. ‘You’ll know that James is a writer and Stephanie’s a hairdresser?’

When I nod, she goes on. ‘I might be wrong, but after his first book, I don’t think he’s had much luck. It’s her salon that keeps them going.’

‘Is that so?’ It would explain the shabbiness of their house if money was tight. ‘Do you know the Buckleys?’

‘Oh yes.’ Ida Jones nods. ‘I see Elise from time to time. The doctor though …’ She seems to stop herself.

My instincts are on full alert. ‘What about him?’

‘Between you and me, he’s not a nice man. I won’t say any more than that.’

‘Mrs Jones … If you know something about Doctor Buckley that could help us, we need to know.’

She’s shaking her head, her expression mutinous. ‘It won’t help you find who killed poor young Hollie.’ She hesitates. ‘But there are rumours. Villages are full of rumours.’ She pauses again. ‘He likes women. That’s all I’m saying.’

I’m not altogether surprised. If her husband’s fooling around, it might explain the slight hostility I sense in Elise Buckley.

Ida frowns. ‘I almost forgot. I saw Elise with Hollie not that long back. They were by the church. I think they were arguing about something. I’d just started talking to them when my phone rang – it was my daughter – and by the time we’d finished our chat, they’d sorted it out.’

My ears prick up. ‘Did you hear what it was about?’

‘They were too far away. And, of course, they stopped once they saw me. I did wonder why Hollie wasn’t in school.’