Bain sat down again and Ingrams retreated back in the room, attaching the camera to the tripod.

Jasmine was about to ask her next question when Ingrams got in ahead of her.

‘You confirmed to the police that the couple were driving a green A-reg Audi 80 and that the baby’s carrycot was purple. Is that right?’

‘Aye. Nice motor in its time, that Audi 80.’ He gave Jasmine a knowing smile as he made his bid for a point of identification. ‘Not as nice as thon Audi Quattro in that programme aboot the lassie back in time, but nice all the same.’

‘What reg is your neighbour’s Astra?’ Ingrams asked.

Bain reeled slightly in his seat. He turned his head but his chair was facing away from the window and was in any case too low down.

‘I’ll take that as a don’t know. Let me try you with an easier one. What colour is our Civic?’

Bain squirmed for a moment then went for blue as a gambit.

‘Try red. You looked at it two minutes ago and you can’t remember. So how did you manage to recall what colour the carrycot was from a brief encounter several days earlier?’

Bain was seething, and Jasmine feared he was about to order them out of his house. Instead he sighed and seemed to calm himself.

‘I remembered the colour because it reminded me of a toy pram my wee sister used to play with,’ he said, staring daggers at Ingrams. ‘And my memory was a bit sharper twenty-seven year ago than it is the noo, okay? Now why don’t you just stick to taking your photies, son, and let the wee lassie do her job.’

Jasmine gave it a moment for the tension to settle. She shot Ingrams a questioning look as he squatted behind the tripod, but like Bain all she got was an eyeful of lens and peaked cap. She looked at her list of questions suggested by him, all fairly neutral and unchallenging, and wondered what he was playing at. Then it hit her that this was a script, and for his own reasons he had only shown Jasmine her own lines.

She hit Bain with a warm and apologetic smile and ploughed on, giving the part her all now that she understood it.

‘What made you come forward?’ she asked him. ‘I mean, a lot of people would have just thought it was nothing to do with them, maybe told themselves they hadn’t really seen what they thought they had.’

‘Sense of duty, I suppose. I’d read about the poor wee lassie that was left, and, well, you’ve got to do your bit, haven’t you? Too many folk just look the other way these days. That’s what’s wrong with this country.’

Bain sat forward in his chair, raising a finger for emphasis.