‘I’m going to pay a second visit to Mr Jenks.’

‘I thought he denied that his daughter had any interest in boyfriends.’

‘He did,’ said Marmion. ‘What he’s going to learn about Enid will come as a severe blow. Jonah Jenks felt that he controlled his daughter’s life.’

Jonah Jenks sat at the piano and played a few chords. The sound was still echoing when the door knocker introduced a note of disharmony. He answered the door and, moments later, brought Neil Beresford into the living room. Though they’d never met before, their mutual sorrow gave them an immediate rapport. After declining the offer of a cup of tea, Beresford explained why he’d called.

‘By rights,’ he said, ‘I should be at work but I overslept this morning. I’d set the alarm when I went to bed but my mother removed the clock while I was asleep and I woke up far too late.’

‘Your mother probably did you a favour, Mr Beresford.’

‘I’ve told her I’ll go back tomorrow but she thinks it would be too soon.’

‘I’m inclined to agree with her. I’ve taken leave from work for the foreseeable future.’

Beresford looked as if he needed as much rest as he could get. Fatigue had painted his features a deep grey and hollowed his cheeks. Yet there was an intensity and animation about him that contradicted his appearance.

‘I really came to ask you about the letter from Mr Kennett. Have you reached a decision yet?’

‘Yes,’ said Jenks. ‘I’ve come round to the view that the offer should be accepted. I’d like Enid to be laid to rest with her friends.’

‘Mr Ingles wants his daughter to be part of a joint burial,’ Beresford told him. ‘He called round to see me early on and persuaded me that it’s the right thing to do. That makes three of us who are of the same mind. I can’t speak for the others.’

‘Reuben Harte is against the idea.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I tackled him about it earlier but he wouldn’t commit himself to the notion. He prefers a quiet funeral involving only the immediate family.’

‘What about Agnes Collier?’

‘I don’t know her family at all, Mr Beresford. Agnes lived near Uxbridge close to Maureen Quinn. We’ll have to wait and see how they react to the offer. My hope is that — seeing three of us in favour of it — they’ll decide to join us. If it’s a case of four to one,’ Jenks continued, ‘then the pressure will tell on Reuben Harte. His resistance might well crumble. What do you think?’

Beresford was distracted and the question had to be repeated for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said with a disarming smile, ‘I was admiring that photo of your daughter. She was a beautiful young lady.’

‘One newspaper described her as a canary — along with your wife, I may say. It’s a dreadful name. I hate it. But you know Reuben Harte, don’t you?’ Jenks went on. ‘Whenever his daughter played in the football team, he came along to support her.’

‘Yes, he was always there on the touchline. A lot of parents were.’

‘What will happen to the team now?’

‘We’ll fight on,’ said Beresford with conviction. ‘We owe it to the players we’ve lost to play and win that cup final. Woolwich may think it’s theirs for the taking and that will make them complacent. We’ll take them by surprise.’

‘I wish you good luck.’

They sat down and discussed the apparent lack of progress in the police investigation. Neither of them could offer any clue as to the identity of the person who’d planted the bomb or what his motives could possibly be.

‘My mother feels that it could be a Woolwich supporter,’ said Beresford, ‘but even a fanatic would have more respect for human life than to kill five innocent women. I’m wondering if it was a tragic accident.’

‘It was certainly tragic,’ said Jenks, sadly.

‘Why would anyone deliberately want to cause such pain and suffering?’

‘The German army is doing just that as we speak, Mr Beresford.’

‘You expect horrors in a war,’ said Beresford, ‘but not on your doorstep.’

‘When did you first hear?’

‘I knew that something had gone wrong when …’ he paused to grapple with his emotions ‘… when Shirley didn’t come home after the party. The Golden Goose is less than twenty minutes’ walk away. I was about to go there when a police car pulled up outside the house. Hearing the news was like being hit by a thunderbolt.’

‘I felt the same. Enid was my sunshine. I couldn’t believe she’d died.’

‘My wife used to say what a fine musician she was.’

‘We’ll never know just how good she could have become,’ said Jenks, flicking his eyes to the photograph on the piano. ‘The war robbed her of a chance to develop her talents and the explosion robbed her of her life. It’s so unjust.’ He took a deep breath before conjuring up a smile. ‘Have you had any reporters hounding you?’

‘Quite a few have come to the house but my mother sent them away.’

‘They’re like vampires, feeding off the dead.’

Beresford was philosophical. ‘I suppose they’d say that they were only serving the public interest. It’s a big story that must have got national coverage. Every newspaper wants inside information.’

‘Well, they won’t get it from me.’ He looked up as he heard the door knocker. ‘If that’s another of them, he’s going to go away empty-handed.’ He got up from his seat. ‘Excuse me.’

Jenks went out of the room and opened the door. The caller was Harvey Marmion. After apologising for disturbing him, the inspector asked if they might speak in private. Jenks brought him into the living room. Marmion was surprised to see Beresford there but pleased to have caught the two of them together. It enabled him to ask about the funeral arrangements. Both men confirmed that they would accept the offer and that Brian Ingles planned to do so as well. Jenks hoped that Marmion had brought some good news about the investigation.

‘Do you have something to tell us, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘It’s really for your ears only,’ said Marmion.

‘You may speak freely in front of Mr Beresford. After all, he’s rather more than an interested party.’

‘That’s true,’ said Beresford. ‘I’d like to hear what you’ve found out.’

Marmion looked from one to the other before putting a question to them.

‘Does the name Herbert Wylie mean anything to either of you?’

‘No,’ replied Jenks. ‘I’ve never heard about him.’

‘What about you, Mr Beresford?’

‘There’s a chap at work called “Herbert” but I’ve no idea what his other name is. He puts detonators into shells.’

‘That sounds like our man. Could you describe him, please?’

After explaining that he didn’t really know the man, Beresford gave enough details about his appearance to convince Marmion that it was indeed Wylie. The description tallied with that given by his landlady.

‘Why are you so interested in this fellow?’ asked Jenks.

‘What I’m looking into is Wylie’s interest in your daughter,’ said Marmion, gently. ‘I suspect that you didn’t realise that Enid once went out with him.’

‘That’s nonsense!’

‘We have it on good authority, Mr Jenks.’

‘Enid would have told me. She wasn’t deceitful in any way.’

‘This occasion was the exception to the rule, sir. Wylie did take her out and your daughter chose not to mention it to you because the evening ended unhappily. Enid told him that she never wanted to see him again.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Beresford, snapping his fingers. ‘My wife used to work beside Enid at the factory. I vaguely remember her saying that someone was pestering Enid. I didn’t realise that it was Herbert.’

Jenks was puce with anger. ‘I still refuse to believe that my daughter went out with any man,’ he asserted. ‘Her whole life was here with me and her music. What else did she need?’

‘Whatever it was,’ said Marmion, ‘she obviously didn’t find it in Wylie. For his part, he was livid at being rejected and determined to win her over. It seems that he pursued her with single-minded dedication. He even turned up in the church congregation at one point, simply to be close to her.’