‘Bless us, O Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.’ He made the sign of the cross. ‘Help yourself to some bread, Jane. I like to dunk it in the soup,’ he said, picking up a spoon and fork.

Although the soup looked appetising, she noticed it had cauliflower florets in it, a vegetable she had never liked. Using her fork to cut a small bit off she scooped it up in her spoon with some of the soup. Her opinion of cauliflower was instantly transformed as the flavour enveloped her taste buds. Next, she tried a bit of the cheese, which literally melted in her mouth. She dipped her bread in the soup, took a bite, and raised her wine glass.

‘My compliments, Chef Chris. I can honestly say I’ve never tasted a soup like this. It’s absolutely delicious.’

Chris raised his glass with a smile. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘Without a name for our victim, finding out what happened to all the nuns living at the convent over a hundred years is going to be a massive task. My intention is to work backwards in ten-year periods from the day the convent closed.’

‘Some of the nuns will still be alive,’ he pointed out. ‘They may be working in other convents or parishes.’

‘They shouldn’t be hard to trace, then.’

‘There is one problem you may encounter, though.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Which is . . .?’

‘In some convents, nuns change their names to reflect the change that has happened in their lives. Sometimes they can suggest a new name, but it’s often up to the Mother Superior to decide on it.’

Jane sighed. ‘That could make things a lot more complicated.’

‘It might be worth trying to locate the last Mother Superior. The diocese should know where she is.’

Jane nodded, swallowing a mouthful of soup. ‘What about the orphan children who lived in the convent? Will there be a record of them?’

‘I’d imagine so, and Bromley Council may have a record as well. Would you like some more wine?’ he asked, lifting the bottle.

She picked up her glass. ‘Just a drop, thank you.’

He topped up both their glasses and offered Jane another slice of bread.

‘It’s just a thought,’ she said, ‘but is there a specific religious shop where nuns and priests get their clothing?’

‘There is for us. I’m not sure about nuns. Why do you ask?’

‘I didn’t check the habit at the mortuary. A maker’s label might help identify a period when it was made and narrow the timeline of our victim’s death. I’ll get our forensic guy to take a look.’

‘That’s clever thinking.’

‘Not really. It’s something I picked up from an experienced colleague on a previous case. I should have thought to do it at the mortuary.’

He admired her modesty. ‘It must be hard to concentrate after such a gruesome discovery.’

‘You kind of get used to it, but I’d be lying if I said it’s never upsetting – not so much at the time, as you’ve a lot to think about, but later, when you are off duty. Dealing with grieving families is hard, but you have to be strong for their sake. It must be the same for you.’