‘Do you think she was having an affair?’ Perez wondered that this mother could be so dispassionate and clear-eyed about a daughter who had died so recently. If anything happened to Cassie, he’d be howling at the moon and incapable of carrying on a rational discussion.

‘She never mentioned anything of the sort to me, but I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘When did you last see Eleanor?’

There was another brief pause. ‘The day before she set off to Shetland,’ Cilla said. ‘She phoned me at work and asked if I might be free for lunch.’

‘Where do you work?’

‘The British Museum. I’m an art historian. My speciality is Africa.’ There was a sudden spark of passion and for a moment he thought that her work was the most important thing in her life. ‘I arranged to meet Eleanor in a Turkish restaurant not far from the museum. It was rather a nuisance actually, because I was in the middle of putting together a proposal for an exhibition. But Eleanor seldom asked to meet up, so I reorganized my day.’

‘And was there something specific that she wanted to talk about?’ Perez was suddenly tense. Perhaps he was catching the mood from the small woman, who was still leaning against the windowsill. The light from the garden behind her meant that her features were indistinct, but he sensed a stress in her too. Maybe she was deciding how much she should confide.

‘Perhaps.’ She leaned forward and wiped sudden and unexpected tears from her eyes. He saw for the first time how tired and sad she was, the lines between her mouth and her nose, the sagging jawline. It occurred to him that her choice of seat was a habitual vanity; she presented a younger face looking into the room. She straightened, dry-eyed once more. ‘It was an odd encounter. Usually Eleanor was very direct, but that day she was . . .’ she paused to find the right word, ‘elliptical. As if she wanted me to guess what was going on. It was clear that she was troubled about something. I could see that she was excited about her work. She was ambitious from a young age and work has always been important. But her mood was strained too. I should have asked her what was wrong, but I chose not to. It seems terribly petty now, but we were always competitive and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I was curious about her life.’