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floor.
    George was on a roll now he’d finally found something to talk about, which was good because I wanted to know more.
    â€˜They called the new house Elysium,’ he was saying. ‘That means Paradise in Greek, or maybe it’s Latin. Either way, it’s ironic when you think what happened there.’
    â€˜Why? What did happen?’
    George chewed his risotto and pointed his fork at Doreen.
    â€˜Dilly’s the one to ask. Her mother used to work there.’
    I shot a gobsmacked look at Doreen. ‘Nan used to clean that house?’
    â€˜Don’t use that vulgar expression. She wasn’t your nan , she was your grandmother. And she was most certainly not a cleaner.’
    â€˜What was she then?’
    â€˜If you must know, she was a cocktail waitress.’
    George laughed. ‘According to your granddad, Pam Slattery mixed the meanest martini in the whole of Kent.’
    That so didn’t fit the warm fuzzy picture I’d always had of Mum’s mum baking, knitting and generally doing other nan-type activities.
    â€˜The Clairmonts threw so many parties they had half the village in to help,’ George went on.
    â€˜So go on, what happened up there?’
    George leant across the table. ‘A murder.’
    A shiver skidded down my back.
    â€˜Who did it?’
    â€˜Lord Clairmont.’
    â€˜Who’d he kill?’
    â€˜The papers said he intended to kill Norma Craig, but the house was dark and he murdered the housekeeper by mistake. The story was splashed all over the headlines for weeks.’
    â€˜What happened to Clairmont?’
    â€˜He vanished. Most people think his millionaire friends spirited him out of the country before the police had even found his car abandoned on the coast.’
    â€˜What about Norma Craig?’
    â€˜She had some kind of breakdown, went off to a clinic in Switzerland and never came back.’
    I looked at Doreen. ‘Did the police interview my na . . . your mum about the murder?’
    â€˜Why would they? My parents moved to Yorkshire months before it happened.’
    That was news to me. ‘I thought they’d always lived in Saxted.’
    â€˜You thought wrong.’
    The lines round her mouth were getting deeper but I kept going. ‘So why did they leave?’
    â€˜My father got a transfer up north for a while and stuck me in a school where I was bullied rotten.’ She paused but only to draw breath. ‘He told me to put a brave face on it so as not to upset my mother. Then, after Sadie came along they moved back and practically forgot I existed.’
    Get over it, Doreen. At least you had parents. And a home .
    â€˜Is Clairmont still alive?’ I said.
    When Doreen didn’t answer, George said, ‘No one knows, but even after all this time the courts still won’t declare him dead.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜Because from the day he disappeared people have been claiming they’ve spotted him all over the world. Someone thought they sighted him last year in Goa. Some old beach bum got the shock of his life when the press turned up in helicopters and surrounded his hut. If you’re interested in the case your grandmother saved all the cuttings. They’ll probably be in that box of books I got down from the attic. Have a look.’
    Doreen chipped in then, reminding him it was time for some gardening show they wanted to watch, which was my cue to get lost. That was fine by me. I went straight upstairs and upended the box of books, tossing aside the old paperbacks, mags and cookbooks until I found a bulging scrapbook. I undid the faded ribbon and looked inside. Mum always said that Nan was a hoarder and it looked like she was right. Nan had stuck in justabout everything from her time at Elysium – articles about Norma Craig, menu cards, pictures of a buffet laid out round an ice sculpture shaped like a bear, guest lists, wine labels, invitations,