‘No,’ she said with some emphasis. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, perhaps I exaggerated a bit. She didn’t sleep with everyone. She had her favourites. And she would say no occasionally, especially to some of the married ones. She wasn’t all bad.’

‘But she was living with Steve Mitchell?’ I asked.

‘Not really,’ Eleanor said. ‘She lived in the house here but she did spend nights away with Mitchell, yes. Him more than any other, I’d say. But they were hardly living together.’ I wondered if Mrs Barlow would be pleased or not. I wondered how strict Millie’s upbringing had been. Maybe as soon as she was free of her father’s control she went a little mad, sampling life’s pleasures in excess.

‘How did she get the anaesthetic?’ I asked.

‘Well, we have it here, of course, but it’s funny.’ She paused.

‘What’s funny?’ I encouraged.

‘The toxicology report on Millie indicated that she had injected herself with thiopental.’

I looked at her quizzically. ‘Why is that funny?’ I asked.

‘We don’t use thiopental in the hospital. We use ketamine, usually mixed with either xylazine or detomidine.’ I raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘They’re sedatives,’ she explained, leaving me none the wiser. ‘Both types will cause unconsciousness, but thiopental is a barbiturate anaesthetic and ketamine is a hydrochloride salt.’

‘Isn’t it a bit odd that she used a different drug than you use at the hospital?’ I asked.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘a vet can get medicines from any drug supplier just by filling in a form. And anaesthetics are used by vets all the time.’

‘But it does mean she didn’t kill herself on the spur of the moment,’ I said. ‘Not if she had to order the stuff especially rather than just take some from here.’

‘She may have already had it,’ Eleanor said. ‘I have a few things in my bag that didn’t come from the hospital drug store. And barbiturate anaesthetics are used a lot. Thiopental is what’s used every day in most vets’ practices to put dogs and cats to sleep.’

‘Where does the hospital get its drugs?’ I asked her.

‘We have a specialist veterinary pharmacist in Reading,’ she said. ‘We have a delivery almost every day during the week.’

‘She must have ordered it separately from them,’ I said.

‘No,’ she replied quickly. ‘They had to check their records for the police and there was nothing.’

‘How odd,’ I said.

‘Even if she had wanted to, she would have had trouble using any of the hospital stuff anyway,’ said Eleanor. ‘We have a very tight system of control. Anything like anaesthetic has to be signed out of the hospital drug store by two vets. Look, I’ve got to go. We aren’t normally open after six and there’s someone waiting to lock up.’

‘How about the horse you operated on?’ I said.

‘He’s in the stables at the back now for the night. He has a monitor on him and CCTV to the duty vet’s room. Otherwise we’re closed, except, of course, for emergencies.’

‘But I would really like to ask you some more questions about Millie,’ I said imploringly.

‘Let me get changed first,’ she said. ‘I fancy a drink. Are you buying?’

‘How about supper?’ I said.

‘Don’t push your luck, Mr…’ She looked again at my card. ‘Geoffrey Mason.’

‘No. Sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Just when I thought I was being asked out on a date, he says he didn’t mean it.’ She laughed. ‘Story of my life.’

We went in separate cars to the Queen’s Arms in East Garston, a village a few miles away.

‘Let’s not go to a pub in Lambourn,’ Eleanor had said. ‘Too many listening ears and wagging tongues.’

I was there well ahead of her. I ordered myself a diet Coke and perched on a bar stool, thinking about what questions I needed to ask and wondering why I thought that Millie Barlow’s death could have anything to do with that of her brother.

I just didn’t like coincidences, although they could never be used as evidence on their own. After all, coincidences do happen. Like all the ones involving the assassinated presidents Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy. Lincoln had a secretary called Kennedy, and Kennedy had a secretary called Lincoln, and both were succeeded by a Vice-President Johnson. But I still didn’t like them.

I did not immediately recognize Eleanor Clarke when she walked into the dimly lit bar. She had changed out of her functional green scrubs and rubber boots and was now wearing a white rib-pattern roll-neck sweater over blue jeans. However, the main reason I didn’t know her at first was because her blonde hair was no longer tied in a ponytail but hung down close to each side of her face. My first instinct was that the change of hairstyle was a mistake as it hid her beautiful arched cheekbones and somewhat reduced the sparkle from her stunning blue eyes.

I was suddenly quite shocked by these thoughts. I had hardly given a woman’s face a second glance since the day I had first met and fallen instantly in love with Angela, and I had certainly not thought of beautiful cheekbones or stunning blue eyes on anyone else.

‘There you are,’ said Eleanor, coming over and sitting on the bar stool next to mine.

‘What are you drinking?’ I asked her.

‘G and T, please.’

I ordered and we sat in silence as the barman poured the tonic over the gin.

‘Lovely,’ she said, taking a large gulp. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘I’d better order you another,’ I said.

‘I’m driving,’ she said. ‘I’ll just have the one.’

‘You could stay for dinner,’ I said.

‘I thought you didn’t really mean it.’ She looked at me with the sparkly blue eyes. They smiled at me.

‘I meant that,’ I said. ‘I just didn’t mean…’ I was getting lost for words. ‘You know, anything else.’

‘Like what?’ she said all seriously, but now with laughter in her eyes.

‘Were you a barrister in a past life?’ I said. ‘I feel that I’m being questioned in court.’

‘Answer the question,’ she demanded with a stare.

‘I just didn’t want you to think I was propositioning you or anything.’

‘And were you?’ she asked.

‘No, of course not,’ I said.

‘Oh thanks. Am I that unattractive?’

‘No. I didn’t mean that.’

‘We seem to be going round in circles here, Mister Barrister Man,’ she said. ‘So what did you mean?’

‘I thought it was going to be me asking you the questions,’ I said. ‘Not the other way round.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m ready. Ask away.’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘Firstly, will you stay to dinner?’

‘Yes,’ she replied without hesitation.

‘Good,’ I said.

‘Are you married?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Why?’

‘I just wondered,’ she said.

I didn’t immediately respond.

‘Well, are you?’ she persisted.

‘Why do you want to know?’ I asked again.

‘Need to know where I stand,’ she said.

‘But I’m not propositioning you, so why does it matter?’ I said.

‘You might change your mind,’ she said. ‘And I can’t be bothered to invest any emotion unless I know where I stand. So, are you married?’

‘Are you?’ I asked her back.

‘Only to my job,’ she said. She waited a moment in silence. ‘Well?’

‘I was,’ I said slowly.

‘Divorced?’ she said.

‘Widowed.’

‘Oh.’ She was embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘It was a long time ago,’ I said. But it felt like only yesterday.

She sat silently as if waiting for me to go on. I didn’t.

‘Still painful?’ she asked.

I nodded.

‘Sorry,’ she said again. Some of the sparkle had gone out of her eyes.

We sat in silence for a while.

‘What do you want to know about Millie?’ she asked eventually.

‘Let’s go and eat,’ I said.

We opted for a table in the bar rather than in the restaurant. No tablecloth, less formal, but the same menu.

I chose a fillet steak while Eleanor decided on the pan-fried sea bream.