Saturday/Sunday, 23:56–00:08, AA bought petrol at the Avia service station, A39, Toulouse-le-Chateau. (Possibly in the company of an unknown man.)

Sunday, AA unaccounted for, up until 20:30.

Sunday, 20:30, AA drinks at a bar, Chez Janine, in Oyannax, in the company of (the same?) man.

Sunday, 23:00, AA and companion leave Chez Janine.

Monday, 06:10, AA’s body discovered.

She handed it to Griff. Arun poured more water for her.

‘The French use CCTV a great deal less than we do in this country,’ said Roche.

‘Who was Alex with, in this bar?’ she said.

‘There’s nothing to indicate they know who it was. Or if it’s the same person he may have been with at the petrol station.’

‘They don’t know anything,’ said Griff.

‘I’m not convinced they’re sharing everything with us.’

‘Don’t they have to?’ said Bea.

Roche shrugged. He shuffled through the papers again, and held out several, clipped together. ‘These pages detail the interviews with the family.’

‘We don’t need that,’ said Griff. ‘We were there.’

‘There are photographs, taken at the scene of the accident, and at the mortuary.’

‘I don’t want to see those,’ said Bea. ‘Dad?’

‘No,’ said Griff.

‘Do they want us to go back?’

‘Not for the moment. I’m sure they’ll let us know.’

The conversation died. There was silence for several minutes. Griff asked Arun and Roche to leave them, and when they had both gone, he and Bea sat alone, with the file in front of them, on the coffee table.

Griff got up and poured brandy into two glasses. The doorbell rang, muffled by the thickness of the doors, and the panelled room.

‘Knock it back,’ he said.

She did. The curtains were drawn, and the lamplight pooled onto the dark walls, soft, like the smell of leather and cigars.

‘Your mother’s doing better, since you ask,’ he said.

She didn’t say anything. He pushed the file away.

‘Arseholes,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘You’d think they’d know more.’

‘They’ve got nothing,’ said Griff. ‘Or if they have they’re not telling.’

‘I’d rather know nothing,’ said Bea. ‘I don’t understand why we need to see it all.’

‘To know what happened.’

‘It’s happened. It can’t un-happen.’

‘We’ll feel better when we know everything.’ He got up and poured himself another brandy, holding up the decanter to her.

‘No, thanks,’ she said. Then, ‘Yes, please.’