‘What time did you get to Sylvia’s house?’

‘Just on noon. We’d left at first light, because we were afraid we wouldn’t find it. Mr Wilson had given us a map of where the cottage was. Good job he did; it wasn’t easy to find.’

‘So this man Wilson had been there himself?’

‘He didn’t say, but he must have done, as the map was hand drawn.’

‘Okay, so you arrived at Stone Cottage. Now tell me exactly what you saw, and how Sylvia reacted to seeing you and Christabel. And then what happened.’

The woman just sat there, her eyes almost closed, and DI Pople thought she wasn’t going to say anything further. He waited, trying hard not to snap at her again and remind her that he didn’t have all day.

‘It was pouring with rain,’ she suddenly blurted out, her eyes still half closed, as if she’d gone back to that day and was about to relive it.

She and Christabel had been at the beginning of a steep, muddy track which ran down under overhanging bushes, giving it an almost tunnel effect. She was hesitating to drive down because of the mud.

‘Can we be sure this is the right track, Gribby?’ Christabel had asked. She had invented the affectionate nickname ‘Gribby’, when she was a child. Since she had grown up, in company she used ‘Miss Gribble’, or ‘Maud’, but when it was just the two of them it was always Gribby.

‘Wilson said there was a milestone on the hill just by the track, and we saw that,’ Gribby said.

‘But what if we get stuck in the mud?’

Despite hesitating because of the mud, Miss Gribble was irritated by Christabel’s question and began to drive down. ‘We won’t. Stop worrying,’ she replied.

Christabel worried about everything. Whether she’d be too hot or too cold, if she should wear blue or green, that the car wouldn’t start, that they’d get a puncture. She was incapable of doing anything, or going anywhere, without constant reassurance that everything would be fine.

Gribby had assured her early this morning that her blue print dress and toning cardigan would be perfect whether it was hot or cold, that she looked lovely in it, that the car would start and that, if they did get a puncture, Gribby would know what to do. She hadn’t anticipated so much rain and mud, but she wasn’t going to admit that.

‘What a funny little place,’ Christabel said as they came out of the overhanging bushes into a clearing and saw Stone Cottage nestling into the woods and the little garden, pretty with flowers. ‘Rather picturesque, though. Fancy Sylvia planting flowers! She never used to be interested in the garden.’

Gribby turned the car around, leaving it in a stony area so they wouldn’t get stuck. She wanted to get this visit over and done with as quickly as possible, to let Christabel see that Sylvia was coping with the child, that she was happy living here, and then they could go.

As they got out of the car, both putting up umbrellas, the side door on the cottage opened and Sylvia stood there in the doorway.

She looked startlingly different. Her blond hair was dyed red, and they’d interrupted her styling it, as one side of her face was framed with curls, the other side still a mass of silver curlers. She was wearing a simple floral dress and her feet were bare. Six years had added maturity to her face, a confidence that was apparent even before she spoke.

‘What brings you here?’ she called out. ‘If it’s trouble, then get back in the car and go.’

‘Oh, Sylvia, don’t be so hostile!’ Christabel called back. ‘I’ve missed you so much, and I just wanted to see Pamela.’

‘Her name is Petal now – as I’m sure you are aware, if you tracked me down here. Come in out of the rain but, I warn you, I wasn’t expecting visitors and we’re going to a Coronation party in the village this afternoon.’

Christabel tried to embrace Sylvia as they went into the house, but she backed away.

‘I can’t be doing with all that false stuff,’ Sylvia said, her eyes flashing. ‘You, Gribble, were vile to me and cruel to Petal, and you, mother dear, were an apology for a woman, let alone a mother. So say your piece and then go. I want nothing to do with you, and nothing from you.’

Christabel let out a sound, part sob, part expression of shock. ‘I want to see Pamela!’

‘There’s no child here called Pamela,’ Sylvia hissed at her. ‘And I’m not Sylvia any longer, but Cassandra.’

‘May I see Petal, then?’ Christabel asked.

‘Just for a few minutes, and if you frighten her I’ll throw you out,’ Sylvia warned. ‘Petal, sweetheart!’ she called out at the bottom of the stairs. ‘There’s some people who want to meet you.’

Miss Gribble felt nothing but resentment when the child came down the stairs. The little girl was all smiles, her tight curly hair fixed up in a sort of top knot with a red ribbon. She wore red shorts and a red-and-white striped blouse.

But what really upset her was the way Christabel reacted.

‘Oh, isn’t she beautiful!’ she gushed. ‘Come here, you darling girl.’

‘I’m going to be Britannia in the fancy dress this afternoon,’ the child announced. ‘Mummy made my costume. Would you like to see me in it?’

‘I would indeed,’ Christabel said eagerly. ‘You know, I’ve wanted to see you for such a long time.’

‘Enough of that,’ Sylvia said with a note of warning in her voice, and moved between the child and Christabel. ‘You relinquished all rights six years ago.’

‘I need to talk to you in private,’ Miss Gribble said to Sylvia in a low voice. She felt she had to let the girl know she wanted nothing more than to let Christabel see her and the child and then they would go. But she couldn’t say that in front of Christabel. ‘Where can we go?’

‘Nowhere in this cottage – it’s too small,’ Sylvia replied.

‘Could Christabel and Petal go and sit in the car, then?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got things I must tell you, and I can’t with Petal listening. Please? Just for a few moments.’

Sylvia looked a little apprehensive but nodded her agreement. ‘Okay. Petal adores cars, and it can’t do any harm as long as she sticks to asking about school and stuff.’

She went over to Petal and stroked her face. ‘Look, sweetie. Would you just go and sit in the car with this lady for a few minutes so I can talk to her friend?’

Petal nodded and readily took Christabel’s hand. She was giggling as Christabel held the umbrella over them both to run to the car.

Sylvia turned to Miss Gribble the moment they’d gone. ‘Now what do you want?’ she asked. ‘If you think I’m coming back, you’d better think again. I wouldn’t cross that threshold if my life depended on it.’

Miss Gribble’s hackles rose immediately, just as they always had when Sylvia showed a lack of respect for either her or her mother. She’d been a wilful child who had always gone against any form of authority. As she got older, she’d become scornful because her mother was weak, and she’d done her best to drive a wedge between herself and Christabel. Miss Gribble tried to control her rising anger, because she knew Sylvia would never agree to her terms if she thought she was being put under pressure.

‘It’s your mother’s nerves,’ she said. ‘You and the child are all she thinks about – she’s always asking about her, crying for hours sometimes. I’m afraid she might have a complete breakdown unless you allow her some contact with you both. I’m not saying you have to come to the house. You could stay nearby, and she could come to you.’

‘Even if I had the money to go all that way, why would I even consider seeing a woman who allowed you to mistreat and manipulate me?’ Sylvia snarled. ‘I don’t care if she has a breakdown, a mother’s job is to protect her child, and she didn’t, because she preferred to go along with what you, a bloody monster, told her to do. You were inhuman, and you are never going to inflict the kind of things you did on me on Petal. I hated you my whole childhood, and now I’m old enough to rationalize it all I hate you even more.’