Porter and Styles both nodded. Neither had lost a loved one this way, but they’d both seen enough people grieve over lives lost to be able to empathise. Too many, thought Porter. Still not enough to have prepared him to deal with Holly, though. No amount of consoling others could prepare you when the time came to swap places with them, to be told the news by an apologetic stranger.

There was a brief lull in the questioning while they gave her a few seconds to regain her composure. She blinked and the dam broke, solitary tears from each eye racing its rival down her cheek. She tugged at a paper handkerchief that had been hiding up her left sleeve and used it to dab at the damp tracks. Porter half expected to see a trail of coloured ones flowing out behind it, like those of a magician at kids’ parties. It reminded him of his grandmother, who always had a hankie stashed like that in case of emergencies. He waited till she’d stuffed it back into its hiding place before asking his next question.

‘Did he leave a note?’

She nodded.

‘I know it’s a long time ago, but do you remember what it said?’

‘Not word for word; it’s been so long. All I remember is something about being sorry for the hurt he’d caused his family, and that this was the only way to make things right.’

‘What did he mean by that?’ asked Styles.

She took a deep breath in and shook her head. ‘I assumed he meant that he’d lost everything – his money, the business, their financial future. I knew he’d not been himself, but if I’d only known how far he’d been pushed …’ Her words tailed off again, eyes unfocused and looking back across the years.

‘Pushed?’ asked Styles. ‘What do you mean by pushed?’

She snapped back to the present and blinked three times in rapid succession.

‘I mean just by the sheer weight of everything he had bearing down on him.’ Her words faltered a little at first but soon gained strength. ‘Anyway, I don’t mean to be rude, Detectives, but that was a long time ago and you were asking about Natasha. I really don’t have anything else to share that would help you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to head out and meet my husband. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

She stood up, the clear message being that she expected them to do the same.

‘Of course,’ said Porter. ‘We don’t mean to keep you. One last thing, though,’ he said with a genial smile. ‘Your son, Gavin? Is he still in contact with his sister, and are there any other siblings?’