She looked from Caro to Posy. They nodded.

‘We’re Dahlias,’ Caro said, sounding more resigned than pleased at the idea. ‘We can’t bottle it now.’

‘Who is going to speak to Larch?’ Posy asked.

‘I’ll do it.’ Rosalind let her blanket fall to the floor as she stood and handed her tea to Caro. ‘After all, I’m the one who found … the body.’ And she wouldn’t sleep without knowing all the facts.

Hugh had moved away to stand at his wife’s side, talking to one of the police officers over more cups of tea, so Rosalind inserted herself into his place opposite Larch with a smile.

‘Detective Chief Inspector.’

‘Ms King.’ His eyes were wary, and his gaze darted to where Posy and Caro sat, watching attentively. Neither of them knew the meaning of the word ‘subtle’. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure? I don’t suppose you or either of your friends have remembered some vitally important fact about this weekend that you’d like to share with me?’

He hadn’t been completely satisfied with their reasons for being in the Gate House that evening. Of course, they’d been lying, so she couldn’t blame him. Even if ‘we saw someone down there and went to check’ was probably the sort of idiot thing he expected ageing actresses like her to do.

Rosalind pushed her memories of the evening aside and smiled, warm and welcoming. Her trust me smile. Dahlia’s smile. It felt good to slip into her skin again after so long.

Dahlia didn’t freak out at dead bodies. Dahlia didn’t care if anyone thought she was intrusive, or abrasive. Didn’t care if the papers labelled her difficult. Didn’t shy away from causing trouble.

It was liberating.

Maybe Caro had it right all along. Who wanted to be themselves when they could be Dahlia?

‘I was rather hoping you might have something you could share with me, actually,’ she said.

His greying eyebrows rose. ‘Oh? And why is that? I’m sure you, of all people, Ms King, must understand the importance of confidentiality in an ongoing investigation. Especially in these early stages.’

‘Please, call me Rosalind.’ She tripped over her own name, just slightly, but she could see that Larch caught it. He was smart, this one. She’d almost said Dahlia. ‘And of course, I understand completely. It’s just that the events tonight …’ She shuddered, delicately. ‘They’ve left my friend, Caro, quite shaken. I think it would help her sleep tonight if she could understand a little bit about what happened, and why.’

Larch looked sceptical, but Rosalind had been playing poor, meek, scared older ladies for years now. She knew how to sell it. As long as he didn’t turn around and see Caro’s eager expression as she leant forward, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.