The girl takes up the story. ‘Well, Ms Goddard, you might have read in the papers about the local water-company project to build a pipeline from the River Stour to reservoirs in Essex?’

Molly shakes her head. She never reads the newspapers these days. They’re too full of politicians preening themselves.

The girl goes on: ‘Unfortunately, an unpredicted consequence has been that local water levels have dropped, in particular at Wormley Mere. It has lost at least three-quarters of its water, and there are fears it might actually dry out completely before the work is finished.’

Molly finds this impossible to imagine. They always said the lake was bottomless.

‘The residents are up in arms, of course, particularly the wildlife lot and the anglers who lease the lake these days. There’s talk of lawsuits. The company is confident of correcting the problem.’ She pauses, glancing sideways at her colleague before carrying on. ‘Meanwhile, their contractors have reported some unusual findings.’

The lump has slipped even higher. It is now where Molly’s heart should be, knocking at the inside of her ribs.

‘These findings,’ Bella asks gently. Her social-work training comes in handy for managing delicate conversations. ‘What are they, exactly?’

The girl looks at the man again. He nods and she carries on. ‘Well, erm, they appear to have found some bones.’ She pauses for a second, and adds more quietly, ‘Human bones.’

Bella’s hand slips into hers, squeezing it gently. Molly tries to breathe, slowly, in-out, in-out, like they teach you for childbirth.

The beard takes over. ‘They’ve been sent to the lab for DNA testing. Are you aware of what this might mean, Ms Goddard?’

She tries to speak but nothing comes out. Her throat has closed.

‘It might help you find out . . .?’ Bella says.

‘That’s right,’ he says, gently. ‘So, if you are willing, we’d like to take a sample from you, too, Ms Goddard, so that we can prove, one way or another . . .’

A sample? Molly’s mind rebels. She hates needles.

‘And what does that involve, exactly?’ Bella asks.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out an envelope, which he opens to show two small plastic tubes containing long sticks with cotton buds on the end. ‘It’s very simple and quick. We just have to rub the inside of the cheek to get a few cells. It takes a couple of seconds, and doesn’t hurt at all.’

Bella turns to her. ‘Mum?’

‘I don’t mind,’ Molly says. Not if it helps find out what happened to Jimmy, she thinks. Not knowing feels like a hollow ache that, in all these years, has never lessened. Perhaps to know might ease the pain, at last. She opens her mouth obediently.

When the procedure is over, he puts the cotton buds back into their tubes, seals the envelope, writes on it in biro and places it back in his bag.