Jack is now glancing around for me. He waves when he spots me but Dylan doesn’t notice. ‘It was before I met Flora. Must have been Christmas ’ninety-three. They seemed okay. Deirdre was nice. Chatty, fussing around us all, making sure we had enough to eat and drink. She had a couple of cute dogs. Clive was quiet, a bit odd, but nothing out of the ordinary, although it was obvious he was a total mummy’s boy.’

‘In what way was he odd?’

He takes another puff on his cigarette. ‘Not very friendly. Avoided eye contact, that kind of thing. He’d stare at my mum a lot, too, when she wasn’t looking. I noticed him leering at her arse as she helped Deirdre carry the roast spuds through to the dining room.’

I picture Clive from the photographs that Norman’s daughter Lisa had emailed across. He hadn’t looked particularly sinister. But, then, it’s not as though psychopaths have it tattooed on their foreheads, is it? ‘Did Flora and Clive ever meet?’

‘That’s the weird thing,’ he says. ‘I can’t remember them ever meeting. He did come to the fair once, though. That summer. With Speedy. Norman,’ he corrects himself. ‘But I can’t remember if Flora was there that day.’

‘And Deirdre?’

‘Deirdre never came to the fair. I only met her that one time at Christmas.’

I try to get it all straight in my mind. ‘So, the day Clive visited you and Norman, how long was it before Flora went missing?’

He pushes his hair back from his face. ‘I don’t know.’ He sounds irritated. ‘A few days. That same week, I’m sure. But it’s a long time ago. I can’t remember exactly.’

‘But the day Flora went missing. You didn’t see him?’

He shakes his head.

Something doesn’t add up. ‘Why was Norman at the fair? Did he work there?’

Dylan drops the cigarette butt onto the pavement and grinds it into the tarmac with the heel of his boot. ‘No. Not exactly. He used to supply us with drugs.’ His head shoots up. ‘You’re not reporting any of this, are you?’ He moves away from the wall and stands up straight. ‘We’re just old mates, having a chat.’

Old mates? I want to laugh in his face.

‘Yep, just chatting, don’t worry,’ I lie. I won’t have any qualms in using what he tells me if I need to. I owe him nothing.