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was a small matter by comparison. And the man hadn’t flinched. He had shown no expression of annoyance or disgust but accepted what had happened as if it was a daily occurrence. Rose decided his emotions matched his appearance.
    Sipping the water she tried to hide her face behind the glass as Sergeant Walters got to work with a bucket and cloth. She would not humiliate herself further by offering to clean up.
    It was strange. She had not wanted David to die but had cursed at death for being so leisurely because of his pain. Although she believed she was prepared for the end, in reality she had not been. This was so different, so unexpected and hard to accept. She would never get to know Gabrielle Milton now.
    ‘What was the party in aid of?’
    ‘Nothing in particular. I think Mrs Milton just wanted to break the ice with people, to feel a part of things. I think, perhaps, she was lonely.’
    ‘You said you didn’t know her. Did she tell you that?’
    ‘No. It was just an impression I had.’
    ‘I am not here to seek impressions, Mrs Trevelyan, only facts.’
    ‘Then am I free to go? I’ve given you all the facts I’m aware of.’ There was some satisfaction in the way Inspector Pearce’s eyebrows arched fractionally. He was not completely devoid of feelings after all.
    Before she left, Rose was made to go through it all again. To catch her out? she wondered. She said she was fit enough to go home. The taxi they had ordered earlier to collect them had been cancelled. Rose asked if she could use the telephone torebook it. ‘Half an hour,’ Pearce told her. He knew she had come with Mr Rowe but he still had to be interviewed.
    ‘What’s going on back there?’ the driver asked when he arrived. He had been made to wait at the gate by a PC monitoring comings and goings.
    ‘We’re not allowed to discuss it,’ Barry said firmly, which was true. Even in the poor illumination of street lights he saw how pale Rose was and took her hand and squeezed it, but he made no attempt at conversation. They were silent throughout the drive. Outside her house Barry waited while she found her keys, then asked if she wanted him to come in.
    ‘I could stay if you like?’ The offer was made from concern for Rose, there was no ulterior motive.
    Rose understood that but she needed to be alone, to rid her mind of images she hoped one day would fade completely.
    ‘No, thanks, Barry. I’ll be fine. Really.’
    ‘OK. But don’t hesitate to ring if you need to talk, no matter what the time is.’ Barry, too, was aware how close it was to the date of David’s death. For the evening to have ended as it had was the last thing Rose needed when she was trying to socialise in the way she had when David was alive.
    Once inside the kitchen Rose started shaking again. She had had three fair-sized glasses of wine but was totally sober now. Her hands were like ice as she uncorked the brandy and slopped some into a tumbler. And then, for reasons unknown to herself, she went into the sitting-room and unplugged the telephone.
    The brandy warmed her, its effects, on her now empty stomach, felt immediately. She rinsed the glass and went to bed. But sleep evaded her. Rose had told Inspector Pearce she had last seen Gabrielle ten minutes or so before Doreen Clarke had announced that the food was ready. Because she did not know everyone present it had been difficult to say who had or had not been in the lounge or near the buffet table before she had decided to inspect the garden. Eileen, the thin woman serving the drinks, had disappeared, Doreen Clarke had presumably been seeing to the food, the tallish, slim woman with auburn hair who seemed to be on her own had vanished, likewise Paul and his fiancée, Anna. There were approximatelyforty people present; she could not be expected to know all their whereabouts. Fortunately she had been able to confirm that Barry was at the end of one of the trestle tables chatting with Mike and Barbara Phillips and, as