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and out of each other’s houses when they were kids. Well, Dave, this friend, was getting married so of course Scott had to go, but there was no need for Melanie to put herself through that. Scott understands. It was all quite amicable. She told me on Friday she was quite happy to stay home, and Scott would enjoy himself more if he went on his own. But . . .’ She faltered, remembering what she had happily forgotten for a few moments. ‘You’re saying he doesn’t know where she is?’
    â€˜She wasn’t there when he got home this morning, and she hadn’t left him a note, so he was worried.’ She didn’t mention the dog or the handbag: no point in upsetting the woman yet. ‘I just thought, if they’d had a row, she might have walked out on him – to teach him a lesson, sort of thing . . .’
    â€˜Well, she was all right with him when I spoke to her on Friday,’ Mrs Wiseman said, frowning, ‘but of course they might have quarrelled since then. I wouldn’t know. But if they’d quarrelled that bad, why wouldn’t she ring me, and come over here?’
    â€˜Could be many reasons,’ Swilley said inventively. ‘If she knows how much you like him, she might not want to admit to you they’d had a row. So, can you think of anyone else she’d go to? This friend Kiera, for instance – can you give me a contact number or address for her?’
    â€˜Yes, I’ve got that somewhere. She might go to Kiera – they’re very close. And she’s got lots of other friends. I don’t know who they are, really, but Kiera could tell you. There’s one she works with, Simone, at the museum – she talks about her sometimes. She gets things from me for her – for Simone. Cosmetics and perfume. I sell cosmetics from home,’ she added, casting a glance at the paperwork. ‘I’ve always been in Product Demonstration, you see, ever since I left school. Started off at the Ideal Home. I’ve done all the big shows. I used to sell Tupperware, when I was married the first time, but cosmetics and fashion jewellery pay better – and you meet a nicer class of person.’ She looked at Swilley with professional interest. ‘I see you take care of your skin. I could let you have some nice things, if you’re interested. It’s a good discount. And they’re all quality products, top names.’
    It was odd, Swilley thought, given the dread she had exhibited at first, how difficult she seemed to find it to keep that at the front of her mind. Perhaps it was a defence mechanism – think about anything except that something might have happened to Melanie. Or perhaps there was something even worse she was trying to keep at bay – something she didn’t want Swilley to discover.
    She let her yatter on about her products for a bit while she thought about it, and then went about taking her leave. She got the address and phone number of Kiera, and of Scott’s parents in Salisbury because she really seemed to want to give them; and she asked for and received a very good photograph of Melanie, taken the year before, which she had been looking at, sandwiched between heavy glass with a silver foot on a chiffonier across the room. It was quite a formal picture, of a very pretty young woman sitting on a stool with her hands in her lap, smiling at the camera. She had thick tawny-blonde hair, artfully highlighted, hanging in a bob to her shoulders, regular features and very nice teeth. Swilley could see the resemblance to her mother, but she had better cheekbones and a more interesting nose.
    â€˜It was a studio portrait,’ Mrs Wiseman said proudly. ‘She had a whole session last year – Scott paid. It was her birthday present. He’s got a friend who’s a photographer so he got a discount. He says when they get married they’ll get a really good deal.’
    â€˜Are they