‘Who did you talk to?’

‘I’m not giving you names.’

‘This isn’t a game, Matt. I’m trying to find out what happened to two tourists who went missing near the Light House and have never been found. They might be dead. The smallest bit of information could be useful to us right now.’

‘I know, I know. I’ve heard all that before. But there’s a question of loyalty, you see. I think you’ve forgotten that.’

Ben stared at him, feeling suddenly frightened by the huge gulf that had opened up between them. It had been widening for years, but now its extent was terrifying. It was as if he’d just looked up from his feet and found that the earth had opened in front of him. A yawning chasm was staring him in the face, a gulf far too wide to cross.

Sometimes it felt as though everything had changed since the death of their mother. In the years of her illness, Isabel Cooper had been the glue holding the family together. Without her, they had fragmented and gone their different ways. Now they hardly even knew how to communicate.

‘Who did you turn to when there was that incident last year?’ said Ben coldly.

‘Me? No one. It was Kate who rang you. And it was your friend Diane Fry who got me out of a cell.’

Of course the problem was that they had never really talked about that night. Now its memory lay between them, shocking and impossible to ignore, like a pool of blood on the carpet.

‘You know they wouldn’t let me get involved,’ said Ben.

Matt nodded abruptly. ‘Yes, because they thought there would be a conflict of loyalties. Isn’t that right? Don’t they give that as the reason? You don’t really understand it, though, do you? To you, it’s just procedure, a form of words, all written down in the rule book. To me, loyalty is very real.’

‘Okay.’

‘So you see, you’re going to have to trust me. If you can’t do that, Ben, it’s just tough.’

‘Matt, it’s not a problem.’

‘Good.’

‘So what did you notice about the Pearsons?’

Matt reacted with a clumsy jerk, as if he’d been expecting the question and had tried to rehearse his response. He’d never been a good actor. Ben remembered him being cast as one of the Three Wise Men in their school nativity play, presenting his myrrh to the Baby Jesus like a robot handling a suspicious package. Wooden didn’t quite express it.

‘What sort of people were they?’ asked Ben. ‘Do you remember?’

‘Well, they weren’t noisy or anything. They kept themselves to themselves mostly. Though there did seem to be …’

Ben looked up at the hesitation, saw from his brother’s face that Matt was trying to assemble unfamiliar thoughts and fit them to appropriate words.

‘There seemed to be what, Matt?’

‘I was going to say, there seemed to be a bit of an atmosphere between them. That’s it.’

‘An atmosphere.’

‘Yes.’

Ben frowned. ‘Between David and Trisha? You mean they’d had an argument?’

‘They weren’t speaking to each other much. Just like when you’ve had a row. You know what I mean?’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘That’s what caused the atmosphere.’

‘So you think they’d been arguing. Just from the atmosphere.’

‘Yes.’

‘The atmosphere,’ repeated Ben.

‘Why do you keep saying it?’

‘Oh, just trying to take it in.’

‘Like I say, they’d been arguing. You could tell from the way they spoke to each other, their expressions when they looked at each other, the way they sat. Their body language, if you want.’

‘Their body language? Really?’

Matt began to look sullen. ‘Well that’s what you asked me for, my impressions. I can’t say any more. If you don’t like it, it’s tough.’

‘Oh no,’ said Ben. ‘That’s great. I love it.’

Cooper turned the Toyota carefully in the farmyard, and bumped his way back up the track towards the road.

Now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember that the Light House had served Robinson’s, one of his favourite beers. He could practically taste it now. They did a strong ale that tasted of ripe malt and peppery hops, with a colour like cherry brandy. Old Tom, it was called. Some beers were seasonal and only came out for Christmas, but Old Tom had been going for ever. It wasn’t a Derbyshire ale, though. It came from just over there to the west, from what used to be Cheshire.

Cooper wondered how many pints of Old Tom he’d sunk that night in the Light House. It made him cringe to think how much he used to drink back then, especially if he was in company like the Young Farmers or the rugby club. Matt could put a few away too.

And that made him wonder. If he’d been a little too drunk himself to remember what had gone off, how capable was everyone else? How sober had his brother been? Not sober at all, surely. Matt wasn’t the most observant of people at the best of times. Particularly not in a social situation. He might be able to tell from half a mile off which of the ewes in his field were ready to lamb, but he didn’t notice much about people. If a friend hadn’t introduced them in the most blatant manner possible, Matt would never have been aware that he’d clicked with Kate. In emotional matters, he was like a slow old bull who had to be prodded into action.

So why would he have come to any conclusions at all about the relationship between David and Trisha Pearson? Matt wasn’t the type who sat in a pub watching the other customers for his own entertainment. He kept his eyes on his beer glass, and talked only to people he knew. If he found himself on his own, he’d study a copy of Farmers’ Weekly, even if he’d read it before. In fact it would be fair to say that Matt Cooper went out of his way to avoid contact with strangers. If they appeared to be tourists, he was likely to look the other way. Sometimes Ben thought his brother must be afraid that any passing stranger might curse him with the evil eye.

‘No, that’s wrong,’ said Ben out loud. ‘That wasn’t Matt speaking. He’s been coached.’

Later, when he was looking for a reason to explain what happened next, he decided that must have been it. He had been too absorbed with his thoughts about Matt.

At least that was the reason he gave himself – the reason why he didn’t notice he was being followed.

Diane Fry still had her old flat in Grosvenor Road, deep in student bedsit land. It was a place that had never felt like home. It never would do, no matter how long she stayed in Edendale. But she wouldn’t be here much longer. As soon as she was settled with EMSOU – MC, she’d be moving out. Somewhere much nearer to Nottingham. That, she promised herself.

In fact her lease on the flat would run out in a few months, so the decision might be forced on her, she supposed. It would hardly be a wrench. She had taken the flat furnished, so her entire possessions could be packed in a suitcase and a few cardboard boxes.

Her old colleagues in E Division had often asked her why she didn’t find somewhere better. She could have afforded it on a detective sergeant’s salary, of course. She might have put down a deposit on a small house somewhere and tied herself to a mortgage. But tying herself down didn’t feature in her planning for the future, not in any way. Yes, there was money in the bank – but she had other purposes in mind for that.

Fry switched on the TV and left a quiz show babbling to itself while she found a frozen pizza and slid it into the microwave. She never had much appetite when she was in the middle of a case. Her biggest problem was turning off her mind, which tended to keep ticking away, turning over and over the events of the day.

She knew she wouldn’t get much rest tonight, not even with the help of her sleeping aids. A promethazine hydrochloride tablet would only give her a few minutes of disturbing dreams before she woke up feeling dry-mouthed and groggy. She suspected she’d been taking the tablets for much too long now for them to have any effect.