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family even if only by marriage; what happened to them
mattered
. But Philip Kennford didn’t seem to subscribe to the same point of view.
    ‘Does Renee have a family?’ Godley asked.
    ‘Boys. Older than Lydia and Laura. Crispin is twenty, I think. Tobias is two years younger.’
    At least she would have some maternal instincts we could appeal to. Godley appeared to be thinking along the same lines. ‘Do you think she would be willing to look after Lydia?’
    ‘I imagine so. If she has nowhere else to go.’
    It was hardly a ringing endorsement, but it was better than nothing.
    ‘I’ll have Lydia taken round there once your sister-in-law agrees to have her. We’ll need to break the news to Renee about what’s happened. Would you like to call her or would you prefer me to send a family liaison officer around?’
    ‘Renee might take it better if it comes from someone who’s on the spot. Someone neutral, I mean.’ And Kennford would happily take advantage of anything that meant he didn’t have to talk to her. He limped to his desk and wrote her address on a slip of paper. We would be going there the following day to interview Lydia if that was where she ended up staying. I rather hoped I’d get a chance to ask Renee what she thought of her brother-in-law.
    Godley took the paper from him. ‘Fine. We’ll get it organised.’
    ‘Where is Lydia, anyway?’ Kennford looked around as if he expected her to materialise in the room. It was late in the day for him to be worried about his surviving daughter, I thought, but Godley was too professional to show a trace of disapproval.
    ‘She’s resting. I have an officer with her in case she needs reassurance, but she’s under sedation at the moment anyway.’
    ‘Went to pieces, I imagine.’ Kennford sounded scathing.
    ‘She walked in on the corpses of her twin sister and her mother lying in their own blood. She thought you were dead too. She didn’t know if the killer was still in the house and she was deeply traumatised but she held it together for long enough to call 999 and let our lads in. I think she’s entitled to a handful of tranquillisers and a lot of sympathy.’ Derwent wasn’t usually soft-hearted but when he leapt to your defence, he did it in style. I could have given him a round of applause.
    ‘Lydia is not a strong person, DI Derwent. Laura got all the backbone when they were in the womb. She was worth ten of her sister.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t know Lydia. With respect, I do. I’m not surprised she’s in a state.’
    Kennford didn’t actually sound respectful, but he stopped short of sneering the words, which was more than could be said for Derwent when he repeated them.
    ‘With respect, I’m not surprised either. But I can understand it and empathise. Maybe you should have a go at that. Given that she’s still alive and everything, you might want to try being a father to her.’
    ‘Are we finished?’ Kennford snapped.
    ‘I am.’ Derwent headed for the door, stopping halfway and wheeling around. ‘There was one thing that was bothering me. Why do you need a flat in London if you live in SW19?’
    ‘During big trials I don’t like to come home. It’s distracting. I function better if I can close myself off from the world and concentrate. I can stay at work until midnight if I like, grab some cereal for dinner, get up at five and keep going. You can see how that lifestyle doesn’t really fit in with family life.’
    ‘Oh. So it’s not a shag pad, then.’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘I think you heard.’ He shrugged. ‘Just going by your reputation, Mr Kennford. I’m sure it’s all very innocent and above-board. You know how people love to talk.’
    ‘I do. And I know it’s not worth listening to gossip.’
    ‘Listening isn’t the same as believing. I make up my own mind about that. But I do like to know what people are saying.’
    Kennford got up, pushing the dog out of his way, but rather than confronting