‘No. I wasn’t supposed to be, you see.’ She looked at Caro. ‘I’m afraid I lied when I told you Anton wanted me here. I was the one that insisted on coming in the publicist’s place. Once I knew Clementine was here … I called him late on Friday night and convinced him that I was the only one who could sell Hugh on the script.’

‘Why did you want to come?’ Rosalind’s nerves were humming with anticipation.

‘Because I thought Clementine was in danger.’ Libby glanced back out of the window. ‘And I was right.’

Caro was as blunt as ever. ‘Do you know who killed her?’

Libby shook her head. ‘Not for sure, anyway. But I think … I think I know why.’

‘Why?’ All three Dahlias asked the question at once.

Libby looked between them, her gaze jumping from one Dahlia to the next, as if trying to decide whether she could trust them with the truth.

Finally, her eyes fell closed and she said, ‘Because she was Lettice Davenport’s granddaughter.’

Silence. For a long beat, all Rosalind could hear was the birdsong outside the window, and the river rippling over stones.

‘Lettice never married,’ Caro said, slowly.

‘But that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have had a child,’ Posy pointed out.

Rosalind perched on the rickety table under the window. She had a feeling she’d need the support. ‘I think you’d better start from the beginning.’

Libby swallowed hard enough that Rosalind could see her throat move. She nodded, and when she opened her eyes Rosalind could see a steely determination in them.

Finally, they were going to get some answers.

‘Clementine’s father was Lettice’s son,’ Libby said, after a deep breath. ‘She gave him up at birth, though, and he was adopted by my Grandma Joy. He never told Clementine. But after his death, at the wake, my mum – the woman we all thought was his sister – got a little tipsy and told us the whole story.’

It wasn’t a pretty one. Libby told them how, during the war, Letty had come home to Aldermere from London and, while there, formed an attachment for her cousin, Freddie.

‘She thought they were going to marry. But when she fell pregnant …’ Libby trailed off.

‘He broke it off ?’ Rosalind guessed.

Libby nodded. ‘Apparently he had a longstanding arrangement with the daughter of his father’s friend. She was a more appropriate lady for Aldermere. But Lettice had the baby anyway.’

‘Here at Aldermere?’ Rosalind asked, surprised.

‘No,’ Posy said, pulling her book from her bag again. ‘She ran away to Scotland with her maid, Joy, didn’t she?’