Boon suspected who her source was. ‘You mean your father told you about the coffin being found on the building site.’

‘Yes, but I made my own enquiries to find out about the history of the convent, the fire and then the sale to the building developer, Thomas Durham. If the nun found out there was something hooky going on between Meade and Durham, then maybe they thought she might tell the police.’

Boon laughed. ‘Now you are in fantasy land. Durham bought the land well after the nuns left. Even if he was remotely involved, why bury the coffin somewhere you know it would be dug up?’

‘That’s a good point . . . but I still think it’s a possibility worth exploring.’

‘Please, Becky, leave the detective work to us,’ he said. ‘Or you could find yourself in trouble.’

*

Jane returned to Bromley to do her report on the meeting with Mrs Parkin. She phoned Nick first to see if he was in.

‘Hi. It’s me. I’m due a lunchbreak. If you’re not busy, I could pop to the café and get a couple of sandwiches.’

‘I’d love to, but I’ve got to go to my dad’s,’ he said.

Jane thought he sounded stressed. ‘Is he all right?’

He sighed. ‘Not really. One of the other residents at the convent showed him the News Shopper article. He’s got himself in a right state about the site being closed down. He’s convinced no one will buy any property there if they think bodies of murdered children and nuns are buried in the grounds. His breathing sounded heavy and a bit erratic, so I’m quite worried about him, to be honest.’

Jane wondered if there was more behind Thomas Durham’s distress. ‘I’m really sorry, Nick. Obviously, we have to reassure the public we are investigating the allegation, but personally I think it’s just sensationalism by a young journalist. I found a document in the diocesan archives confirming the land was deconsecrated prior to the sale, so that should help put your father’s mind at rest.’

‘Thanks. That should cheer him up a bit. Hopefully I’ll see you tonight if he’s feeling better.’

‘No problem. Give him my best,’ she said, and ended the call, realising Nick was in a hurry.

Jane had started typing her report when Boon walked in.

‘How’s your leg?’

‘Bloody sore.’ He sat down, rubbed his shin, then looked at Jane with a sly grin. ‘I’ve just spoken to a woman who was a child at the convent from 1957 to 1962. She told me about a priest who used to visit and read them stories. The children called him Father Bob.’ He paused for Jane to answer.

Her eyes lit up. ‘Robert Meade! The bishop!’

He nodded. ‘She didn’t know his surname, but I’d bet my life it was Meade.’