‘We should ask Vaila,’ Willow said. ‘Come on, Jimmy. No time like the present.’

Perez felt her looking at him strangely and tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but he was thinking of the song and what was different about the recording from the version he knew. At last he got to his feet and followed her out of the house. They walked into the yard to pick up their car and found David sitting outside the walled garden, smoking.

‘I gave up years ago.’ He nodded towards the cigarettes on the bench beside him. ‘These were Charlie’s. He thought I didn’t know that he’d started smoking again. I pretended not to, because I didn’t want to nag. All these pretences and small lies. It seems ridiculous now. Why couldn’t we just be honest with each other?’ He sucked in the nicotine as if he hoped it would kill him immediately.

Vaila let them in to her smart new bungalow. She had the baby over one shoulder and was patting her back. ‘She’s been crying all morning,’ she said. ‘Wind or colic. I’m not sure I’d know the difference, though.’ And she looked at them hopefully as if they might be expert in the ways of small children.

Willow ignored her. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve got a few more questions.’

Vaila put the kettle on, still holding the child. ‘I’m glad to see you,’ she said. ‘My man’s working away again and we all need adult company, don’t we?’ But her voice was cheerful; there was no evidence here of post-natal depression.

‘I’ll do this.’ Perez nodded towards the cups and the teapot. ‘You go and sit down.’ He wondered what it might be like to hold a very small baby against your skin, how it might smell, and then thought again that he needed to pull himself together. With Fran gone, that was never going to happen.

In the lounge he poured the tea and offered milk and sugar as if it was his place. Willow and Vaila were already talking.

‘We’ve found Eleanor Longstaff’s digital recorder,’ Willow said.

‘You heard my piece then. What do you think it sounded like?’ She looked at them, demanding their approval.

‘Very good.’ Willow smiled. ‘Brilliant in fact.’

‘So do you think they might still use it for the telly?’

‘That’s nothing to do with us.’

Perez could tell that Willow was starting to lose patience with the young mother. Eventually she’d come out with a sarcastic comment that would alienate their witness. ‘There was something else on the recorder,’ he said gently. ‘A piece of music. Can you tell us anything about that?’

Vaila looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Eleanor didn’t play any music to me.’

‘Did she ask you about Peerie Lizzie’s song?’

‘Marty Thomson’s tune? No, nothing like that. Just about my story.’