CATHERINE: ‘We went to have a chat with Symmonds-Browne, asked about the mother and child and, would you believe it, he started to cry. Proper threw us, that did. Sobbed and blubbered like a great big kid saying she’d gone back to wherever she’d come from and she’d never got in touch with him again. It was all an act, of course, but it worked, because it got rid of us well enough.’

CRISTY: ‘Was any follow-up done on it? No, first, did he tell you the names of the woman and child?’

CATHERINE: ‘I wouldn’t have remembered, but it’s in the file. She was Janina Andris and the child was Sasha.’

Cristy broke off for a moment, the surprise of hearing the names resonating deeply and almost electrifyingly through her. She glanced at Connor and saw it had affected him too. It was all real, this confirmed it, not that they’d seriously doubted it – Robert and Gita’s interviews didn’t allow for that – but even if they’d continued to have concerns they were dispelled by this. Janina and Sasha had lived at Mannycott Farm in Kylve. She had almost definitely been a so-called Russian bride, even if it wasn’t her true nationality. Sasha’s father … could have been anyone.

After making several quick notes for herself, she continued.

CRISTY: ‘Was the mother and child’s disappearance investigated?’

CATHERINE: ‘Not that I ever knew about. Our higher-ups got in touch with the Met and we were told no further action was necessary. Whether that was because the mother and child really had returned to their homeland, or because they didn’t want to waste resources trying to find illegals, I can’t say.’

CRISTY: ‘And you knew they were illegals?’

CATHERINE: ‘They would have been then, if they were from one of the Eastern European countries, and the vicar seemed to think they were.’

Cristy turned to Connor to see if there was anything he wanted to add.

CONNOR: ‘Do you have any idea where George Symmonds-Browne could be now?’

CATHERINE: ‘For all I know he’s still at the same address. If not, you’ll find the names of his blue-blood family in the file, maybe they can put you in touch with him.’

CONNOR: ‘Does the name Lukas Andris ring any bells for you?’

CATHERINE: ‘No, I don’t think so. What was he, a relative of the mother and child?’

CONNOR: ‘Brother and uncle.’

After the recording was over and Connor was packing up the equipment, Catherine said to Cristy, ‘I heard the first episode of your new series, so I’m going to assume that Sadie Winters is the Sasha I just mentioned?’

‘It’s looking very likely,’ Cristy replied. Then, ‘Do you happen to recall anything about the Winters sisters being on Exmoor back in 2000?’

Catherine wrinkled her nose as she thought. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of them. Who are they? Oh, hang on, were they a couple of wealthy Londoners who holidayed at Hilltop Lodge … That’s right, I remember them getting a few tongues wagging for a while, something to do with them being there one day and gone the next.’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘If I’m reading this correctly, you’re thinking they took the child with them when they left?’

Meeting the direct question with a slightly less direct answer, Cristy said, ‘It’s looking that way.’

‘And now what you’re trying to find out is if they had some sort of arrangement with Symmonds-Browne or one of his … suppliers, to make the child theirs?’

‘Do you think it’s possible?’ Connor asked.

The detective gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I never put anything past anyone, not after the things I saw when I was with the police. In this instance … Well, let’s say, there’s certainly a coincidence of events and times that warrants further enquiries, which is of course what you’re doing.’ She went further. ‘My best guess is that someone made your girl Janina disappear so your sisters could have the child they wanted.’

Wishing they could have got that on tape, while also knowing they’d be unable to air it, or certainly not at this stage, Cristy thanked her warmly and followed Connor out to the car.

As they drove away, she said, ‘So where do you think Janina’s knowledge of the sisters fits in with this? I’m thinking of Robert’s interview now.’

‘God knows,’ Connor replied. ‘But it’s looking increasingly likely that Lottie’s beach story is nonsense. And if that is, what about everything else?’

As neither of them had an answer several minutes passed with the Chew Valley and its winter-sunlit lakes falling away behind them until a sprawling vista of Bristol opened up ahead. ‘Let’s call Clove and Jacks,’ Cristy said, taking out her phone. ‘If they’re still in Minehead they can swing by Kylve on their way back to find out if Symmonds-Browne is still at Mannycott Farm.’

‘And if he is?’

‘They should leave it to us to go talk to him. If he’s no longerthere, maybe they can start work on where he might be now. Also, we need to check the files Catherine Shilling just gave us for the vicar’s name. If he’s still around he could be worth a few words. They can handle that themselves once we’ve briefed them.’

Fifteen minutes later, with Clove and Jacks on their way to Kylve, and all sorts of scenarios still flashing through their minds, Connor said pensively, ‘I can’t stop wondering, given the suddenness of Lottie’s death and the fact that no more extracts have yet come to light … I’m asking myself, did someone get to her before she could write any more?’

Cristy frowned. ‘Talk me through that.’