Back at St Halibut’s, Arfur scratched his chin, apparently deep in thought. ‘Bingo! Knew it. Crossed my mind she’d been murdered, but that don’t make sense – you kids wouldn’t ’ave been left alive.’

‘We might,’ said Herc. ‘It’s her that wasn’t very popular.’

‘Trust me, neither are you lot,’ said Arfur. ‘Nah, I believe you. This is what you call a fluke. An unlikely throw of the dice. And the second time this week! It’s this sorta thing made me give up gamblin’.’

‘What are you on about?’ Tig asked him, despite herself. He was being irritatingly mysterious.

But he merely jabbed her gleefully in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Unless it was you what bumped her off, yer cheeky so-and-sos . . .’

‘I was there,’ insisted Herc solemnly. ‘And I watched it happen, but I didn’t do it. And neither did anyone else. It was the books.’

‘All righty. Made the best of it, though, ’aven’t you, to say the least! Ha! I knew you was up to something, but I have to admit you’ve surprised even me. Shocked, I am. And a little bit impressed, if I’m honest. So what’s all the cleaning in aid of?’

‘None of your business,’ Tig replied, at exactly the same time as Herc said, ‘Mr Fleetham is coming to see us and it has to be perfect!’

‘Herc!’ Tig’s sharp tone closed her brother’s mouth into a worried wobble, and a sliver of guilt pricked her. ‘It’s all right. Go and tidy upstairs, will you?’ Instantly Herc’s expression cleared, and he scampered off.

She turned back to Arfur with a sigh. It was so tiring, having to manage them all the time. Stef thought about things so much he never got around to doing them, and Herc did everything without thinking – if she didn’t keep them in line, everything would fall apart. She felt like a drill sergeant, except her soldiers were Labrador puppies, and every time she turned her back they pooed on the parade ground.

Arfur was waiting expectantly, leaning against the door frame. He couldn’t have looked more entertained if he’d been eating popcorn.

She thought about making something up, but what was the point? The cat was well and truly out of the bag now. ‘Someone’s coming from DEATH. We have an inspection to prepare for.’

‘Deary, deary me, I see your problem. Not meaning to be rude, love, but they ain’t gonna like what they see, are they?’ He giggled. ‘Looks like a bomb’s gone off. And I bet the rest is worse, innit?’

‘Quite. So if you don’t mind . . .’

But he wasn’t done yet. ‘The lovely lady’s been gone a while, eh? Well I never. So . . . leave anything behind, did she? You oughta search her room. I’d be happy to lend a hand. Bit of a spendthrift, your matron was. Liked a bit of bling, didn’t she? You never know, she might have kept a few secrets. Trinkets and the like. Items of value.’ He studied his grubby fingernails with great interest, as though wondering whether they too might be worth something.

So now they came to it.

‘How much do you want?’ Tig asked him coldly. ‘To keep quiet?’

Arfur placed an open palm on his chest in dismay. ‘I can’t believe you’ve brought that up. What a mind, to think of money at such a time! But since you have, gotta tell you I don’t rightly know. Need some time to think about your kind offer.’

‘You do that.’

‘It would help if I knew the kind of sum that’s possible . . . I mean, if you’re only sitting on a handful of coppers I might need to go elsewhere to make some money, if you get my drift.’

Ugh, how Tig hated him and every hair on his greasy head! She wondered if the oiliness was the result of some unpleasant disease. It was combed so precisely it seemed intentional, yet it was hard to imagine anyone slathering that on one morning and being pleased enough with the effect ever to do it again. Perhaps it helped him to slither his way out when he got into trouble. Certainly nothing he deserved ever stuck to the slimy little toad. It was a mystery how he was able to wander around freely, without being prosecuted for a hundred different trading standards offences. Maisie had told them that he worked for Ainderby Myers at the Mending House from time to time, though, which probably explained why he kept getting away with things. ‘There’s plenty of money. But you can’t come in now.’

It seemed he was about to argue, but then stopped short, as though a penny had dropped somewhere in his brain. ‘You know what? No need, after all. That’s grand.’ He beamed. ‘And now we have an understanding, if there’s anything else I can do to help, you only have to ask. Anything. Just say the word. I’m here for you.’

‘How nice! Best friends for ever, yay. Can’t wait to spend long evenings together, blackmailing each other. What larks.’ She gestured at the broom propped up against the door frame, calling his bluff. ‘If you want to help, get sweeping.’

He winced. ‘Anything else. Can’t do that. It’s me back, see. Also, I’m allergic to dust.’ This last said sadly, as though he had once dreamed of being able to sweep floors and was bravely learning to live with the disappointment. How on earth had Maisie ever liked this man enough to marry him?

‘Fine. The inspector will be here on Friday. Stay away till Saturday and then we’ll talk.’

‘Sure you don’t want my help on Friday? I could, you know, put in a good word for you kids. Make sure the inspector don’t miss nothing important.’

Tig’s withering stare gave Arfur the answer. She knew what kind of word he’d put in with Kirkby Fleetham. If Arfur thought he could get more money out of the inspector as a reward than he could get out of the children as blackmail, he wouldn’t just tell their secret, he’d sing it like a canary.

His enthusiasm was not dampened by her expression. ‘Come on. Don’t be shy. You could do with a friend like me. I’ve skills and experience what could be to your advantage. Got me finger in plenty of pies, if you know what I mean.’

‘Big deal. So does Ma Yeasty, and we all wish she didn’t.’

Arfur tipped his head regretfully. ‘So be it. Nice doing business with you anyway, young lady. Hope it goes well and I’ll see you on Friday.’ He was trotting down the steps away from her at speed.

‘Saturday!’ she called after him. ‘And we have lots of money. Lots! OK?’

He turned and gave her a mock salute by way of reply.

‘You stay away till Saturday, you hear!’ she yelled after him. ‘SATURDAY!’

But he was too far away to hear her.