I walk through the gap first and stop in surprise. It’s much smarter than I remember, with a row of static caravans in one area of the field and in the other a smattering of pod tents. Behind that is the old coach house where Heather and Adam now live. In 1994 it was more or less a shell and was used for storage. Once we saw her uncle Leo and his girlfriend Hayley sneaking out of it with sheepish expressions, Leo adjusting the belt of his jeans and Hayley pulling at the hem of her micro-mini skirt. We had been in one of the caravans and we’d fallen about laughing so much that Heather nearly wet herself.

‘It’s quite nice,’ says Jack, nodding in approval.

‘Not that you’ve ever camped in your life,’ I acknowledge, remembering that Jack had turned down a lads’ weekend ‘glamping’ because he didn’t want to ‘rough it’.

‘I’m camp in other ways,’ he says, winking at me.

I roll my eyes. ‘Right. I wonder which caravan Colin’s staying in.’

‘Maybe the one with the light on.’

I shove him playfully but he winces and holds his arm. At first I think he’s mucking about, but from the pain that flashes across his face I realize he’s serious. ‘Oh, Jack! Are you okay?’

‘Bruises. From the mugging.’

‘Shit, I forgot.’ I rub his upper arm tenderly. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t worry. Come on.’ He moves away from me and strides towards the caravan with the light on. There are little gingham curtains at the window and I imagine it’s cosy inside. Jack’s already rapping on the door before I’ve even reached him. ‘Eager beaver,’ I tease, when I catch up with him.

Before he can reply the door opens and a short, balding man with a large stomach stands blinking at us. He has glasses perched on his pointed nose and he reminds me of a mole. He frowns. ‘Yes?’

Jack opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt him, by introducing myself. ‘Margot said it was okay for us to talk to you.’

He hesitates. ‘I don’t have anything to say.’

‘It’s just about Heather.’

His eyes widen and he leans closer to me. He smells of beef stew. ‘What about Heather? Is she okay?’

‘There’s no change, I’m afraid. But the morning she shot herself, were you here?’

His face closes up. ‘I don’t know anything. I’ve told the police this already. I was in bed. Asleep. I heard nothing. I saw nothing.’ He retreats back into his caravan.

‘Please, Colin. It could help Heather.’

‘No. It won’t.’ And he shuts the door in our faces before I can ask what he means.