‘We did.’ Rushton gave a nod. ‘Sinclair unlocked it for us. All the old sarcophagi were opened up. We took the dogs down too. Not a sniff, if you’ll pardon the expression. They did get quite excited in the church itself for a while, on the steps leading up to one of those old bell towers.’

‘And?’ prompted Harry, turning to look at the church. Only the closest of the four towers, the one on the south-west corner, could be seen from that angle.

‘Three dead pigeons,’ said Rushton. ‘I could smell ’em myself before I was halfway up the stairs.’

‘Will you check the cellar again?’ asked Harry. ‘They were local girls. They were taken from here and found here. They must have been kept somewhere nearby.’

Rushton barely glanced at him. ‘Thank you, Reverend, the force has some experience of conducting murder investigations.’

A radio started crackling. Jove pulled the receiver off his belt and turned away from the group. ‘DI Neasden,’ he muttered. After a moment, he turned back to his chief. ‘Needed in the house, Guv’ nor,’ he said. ‘They’ve found something.’

‘How long will she be out for?’ asked Gwen Bannister.

‘Hard to say,’ replied Evi. ‘Temazepan is a very mild sedative and I didn’t give her much. Someone a bit fitter, maybe with greater bodyweight, would just feel very drowsy, maybe a bit spaced out. Gillian must be exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly.’

Gillian’s face had relaxed, lost some of the tension of the past half-hour. She looked younger, softer. One arm was stretched out across the pillow. The long-sleeved T-shirt she’d been wearing had ridden up almost to her elbow. Evi reached out, gently took hold of Gillian’s arm and raised the fabric a little higher.

‘I thought she was getting better,’ said her mother, looking down at the livid, fresh scars across the girl’s forearm. ‘She’s improved, since she’s been seeing you.’

‘These things take time,’ said Evi. ‘It’s still very early days.’

Gwen turned to the door. ‘Come on, love, you shouldn’t be standing up. What do you say to a brew?’

‘That would be good,’ said Evi. ‘It feels like a long time since breakfast.’

‘Tea or coffee?’ Gwen left the bedroom. Evi paused for long enough to tuck Gillian’s injured arm inside the bedclothes and to pull the quilt a little higher up around her shoulders.

‘Tea please, milk, no sugar,’ she called out softly, as she walked back into the living room. The mist outside was definitely getting thicker. When they’d arrived at Gillian’s flat, it had been hovering over the higher reaches of the moor and the upper parts of the town. It had crept lower since. She could just about make out parts of the ruined tower. Nothing beyond.

Evi turned from the window and sat down. The coffee table in front of her looked as if it had been smeared with fine dust. She heard the sound of the kettle boiling, of water being poured, the fridge door opening. Then Gwen returned, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. She stopped and looked down at the table surface, registering the significance of the dust.

‘Doesn’t seem quite right, does it?’ she said, without straightening up. ‘Should I wipe it down, do you think?’

‘I’m really not sure,’ said Evi. ‘Perhaps leave it for now. I’ll try and get in touch with that police officer before I go. I’ll ask him what we should do.’

Gwen bent down and put the tray on the floor. She offered the plate of biscuits to Evi.

‘I don’t think Gillian can be left on her own today, I’m afraid,’ said Evi, biting into a biscuit and regretting it. It was soft and lay like damp cardboard in her mouth. ‘I can call in again later when she’s awake, but she needs someone with her. If you aren’t able to stay, I can arrange for her to be admitted. To hospital, I mean. Maybe just overnight.’

Gwen shook her head. ‘It’s OK. I can stay with her. I’ll take her back with me tonight. I suppose we can put up with each other for once. Ruddy ’ orrible biscuits. Sorry, love.’

‘You’re not close?’ ventured Evi. Gillian so rarely talked about her mother, she really had no clear idea of the relationship between the two.

Doubt flickered across Gwen’s face. ‘We do well enough,’ she said. ‘Gill ran a bit wild for a time. Things were said on both sides. I expect you and your mum have your fallings out at times.’

‘Of course,’ said Evi. ‘Is there just you at home?’

‘Aye. Gillian’s dad died in a nasty car accident a long time ago. My second marriage didn’t last. But I expect you know all that already, don’t you?’

Evi smiled and dropped her eyes.

‘I heard they dug up some bodies last night in the churchyard,’ said Gwen, finishing her biscuit and reaching for another. ‘Bodies that shouldn’t have been there, I mean. Is it true?’

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t been told much about it,’ said Evi.

‘Little kids, I heard. Is that why you’re here? Do they think it’s Hayley they found?’

‘There was some talk of that being a possibility,’ said Evi, wondering how much more vague she could make that sound. ‘But of course…’ She gestured towards the coffee table, at the dust that seemed to be moving now, as though stirred by a breeze neither of the women could feel.

‘How could it be Hayley when Hayley’s been in a jar in the kitchen for the past three years?’ finished Gwen.

‘When you came in,’ said Evi, ‘Gillian was saying that the ashes weren’t Hayley. Do you know why she felt so certain of that?’

‘She always refused to believe it,’ said Gwen. ‘Even when the remains were confirmed as being human, she wouldn’t accept it. As though someone else could have burned to death in the house without her knowledge.’

Gwen sat chewing her biscuit for a second. Evi sipped scalding tea and waited.

‘I sometimes wonder if it was my fault,’ said Gwen, after a second. ‘Whether I should have got help for her a long time ago. But in those days, we didn’t have any namby-pamby counselling rubbish – no offence, love – we just got on with it.’

‘You thought Gillian might have needed help some time ago?’ asked Evi. ‘Did she have problems at school?’

‘Just the usual teenage stuff,’ replied Gwen, putting her mug down on the carpet and brushing biscuit crumbs off her fingers. ‘Smoking behind the bike sheds, sneaking days off. No, I’m talking about what happened to her little sister. When Gillian was twelve. She must have mentioned it.’

Gwen was staring at Evi now. The lines around her jaw seemed to have hardened. Then she picked up the mug again and drank too much. When she lowered it, Evi could see damp splashes around her mouth.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Evi cautiously, as the other woman ran a finger around her lips. ‘I don’t think Gillian ever mentioned a sister.’

Gwen leaned forward and put her mug down on the coffee table. ‘You should ask her,’ she said.

‘I appreciate your advice,’ said Evi, ‘but we only talk about what Gillian wants to bring up. It wouldn’t be fair to spring a subject on her. If Gillian had a sister, I have to wait until she wants to talk about her.’

‘Well, you might be waiting for a long time,’ said Gwen. ‘She certainly never wanted to talk to me about it. But maybe you should know, especially if…’ She looked at the coffee table, where her mug sat amidst a soft film of ash. ‘Gillian had a little sister called Lauren,’ she went on. ‘She fell downstairs when she was eighteen months old. Someone left the stair-gate open – Gillian most likely, although she never admitted it. Lauren tripped over the bar and went from top to bottom. She hit the slate tiles on the hall floor. Lived for three days but never woke up. I never saw her eyes open again.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Evi. ‘How terrible for you both, and then to lose Hayley as well.’ Another child had fallen to her death?

‘Aye. And after that, my marriage didn’t last long. John was the one who found her, you see. He never got over it.’