‘What is it?’ I ask gently. This is one of my strengths as a journalist: knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet. I’m good at reading people and I know, right now, there’s something important she wants to say.

Jack, who has been silent until now, suddenly sits forward in his seat. He can sense it too. I will him to remain quiet. I don’t want to interrupt Margot’s flow.

Margot sighs. ‘Detective Ruthgow was here yesterday. About what happened to Heather’s dad. My husband, Keith.’

I’m holding my breath.

‘I don’t know if Heather ever told you, Jessica, what happened to her father but I doubt it. She never spoke of it. She was so closed about it all and I think it was her way of coping. We probably didn’t handle it right, in hindsight.’

Heather hardly ever mentioned her dad, apart from that time in our art lesson when she blurted out that he was dead. She’d also once said he’d been a bit of a tyrant. I wait. I can sense Jack crossing his legs and out of the corner of my eye I notice he rests the bag of peas in his lap.

I shake my head, my pen poised, adrenalin pumping through my veins.

‘She killed him. With a gun. By accident.’

I stare at her in shock. Of all the things I’d thought she might say I’d never expected this.

‘Oh, God. Poor Heather. And your husband. I’m so sorry,’ I manage.

The image I’ve always held of my one-time best friend is warping and distorting in my mind, like a perfect photograph that has been damaged by water.

She blinks. ‘Yes,’ she adds curtly. ‘Well, Heather was only ten. She couldn’t have known what she was doing. It was an accident.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m only telling you because it’s bound to come out. And I’d rather you – well, the public – heard it from me first. I don’t want there to be rumours flying, people filling in the blanks. Do you know what I mean?’

I nod vigorously, my heart racing. ‘I do.’ I pause. ‘Can you explain what happened?’

My shorthand can hardly keep up – and I’m fast at 120 words per minute – as Margot explains what happened on that April day back in 1990 at their farm in Kent. When she’s finished there’s a stunned silence.

Oh, Heather. I can’t believe she never told me. We were so close. I’d thought we told each other everything but there was this huge secret between us. I can’t believe Heather shot and killed her father. Something as traumatic as that must have changed her. Who is Heather?