I led them into the sitting room, removing an old Bakelite telephone from a chair before sitting down, then quickly jumping up to clear piles of books from the threadbare camelback sofa to give them room. I hoped it wouldn't break. One of the legs was very precarious.

'So!' I sank down again. 'Any further on? Archie said the fire was probably caused by an electrical fault, dodgy wiring, is that it?'

The man sat on the edge of the sofa, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped. He had an impa.s.sive, watchful face and his hazel eyes were trained on me, thoughtful, contemplative.

'Well, no, we think not, now. We think the fire was started deliberately, actually.'

'Good G.o.d.' I sat up, startled. 'By who?''By a child.'

'A child!' I stared. Felt the blood drain from my face. 'But but why? Why d'you think that?'

'Because evidence suggests it, Mrs Fellowes. Comic books wrapped in bundles around matches were found in the garden. Home-made fireworks.'

'Fireworks!' I stood up, distressed.

'In a camp, in a nearby copse'

'Jesus'

'And we also have a witness who claims this is so' 'What, you mean, they saw-'

'They saw a child start the fire'

'Who?' I stared in horror. My eyes darted from one face to the other. Both unmoving, impenetrable. 'No! Not Ben, Max they wouldn't!'

'Ben, we believe.'

Ten! But-'

'Mrs Fellowes,' he took a large open notebook from a slim leather case on the floor and flipped back a page. 'Where were you on the night of the twenty-fourth yesterday evening? Sit down, please'

I sat, ashen. 'I was out'

'Yes, but where? And who were you with?'

'I was in a pub,' I whispered. 'In Little Burchester.'

'Little Burchester. About forty minutes away from Netherby?'

'Yes: 'With a gentleman by the name of ...' he referred to his pad again, running his finger down to find the spot. 'Charles Fletcher?'

'Yes, but only for an hour or so. I left to go home.' 'Straight home?'

'No, I went to see a friend.'

'And her name?'

'His,' I mumbled.

'Sorry?'

'His. Kit Alexander.'

'Of Frampton Manor?'

'Yes. I work for him,' I added quickly.

'I see' He paused, frowned down again at the italic handwriting that filled the pages of the book. It looked awfully familiar. He glanced up. 'But wasn't it your intention, Mrs Fellowes, to be out for the entire night?'

I swallowed. 'Yes.'

'Staying the night in the pub? With Mr Fletcher?' 'Yes,' I whispered.

'Who is, I believe, married?'

My mouth opened.

'Mrs Fellowes? Is he married?'

'Yes, but is there a law against-'

'And you left the children with?' he swept on.

'Well, I left the children with their grandmother!' 'Lady Fellowes?'

'Yes!'

He pursed his lips and frowned. Rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his fingertips. 'Lady Fellowes said not. She gave a statement in hospital, before she died, saying that you had never asked her to look after the children. That you'd simply gone off, with your boyfriend, and left them alone at the barn. She said she was hosting a lunch party the following day, andhad been so engrossed in helping the staff, that she'd no idea what you'd done until she glanced up, looked through the kitchen window with the cook, Joan, and saw the barn on fire. She said she raced down there while the staff phoned the Fire Brigade but the fire had already taken hold. She ran upstairs to the boys' bedrooms and then got trapped. The staircase began to give way. She found your sons huddled by a window, in Ben's room.'

'No! No, that can't be! I would never have left them! I asked for Trisha but she said Trisha was too busy helping with the lunch, so she said she'd do it. Have them up at the house, look after them up there!' My voice was rising hysterically now.

'Was anyone with you?'

'When?' I yelled.

'When Lady Fellowes said that?'

I thought back frantically. 'Well no. No, we were alone.' And now she's dead, I thought in panic.

'But Ben could verify it?'

'Well no, he wasn't there.'

'No, but presumably you told him the plan?'

I stared at him. Felt numb.

'Shall I ask him?' He made to get up.

'No! No, don't do that. I I forgot.'

'Forgot to tell him?'

'Yes.' I looked down at my hands. Felt my mouth go dry. My throat constrict. 'You see,' I licked my lips, 'I was in such a terrible rush that day. Had to do flowers at the church. Then had to go and meet . . I faltered. 'Charlie'

'So you forgot.'

'Yes,' I whispered. 'And he got the wrong end of the stick.

Ben, I mean. Thought he was sleeping in the barn.'

'So ... they put themselves to bed without an adult? Is that usual, Mrs Fellowes?'

'No!' I looked up sharply. 'No it's not, and I don't know why! I've asked, but well, he's too upset to tell me. It's not usual I never leave them!'

'And did your son know where you were?'

I hung my head. 'No.'

'You didn't tell him?'

'No.'

'So, where did you say you were going?'

'I said I would be in London, with a girlfriend. I didn't want to well, hurt him. Say I was seeing a man.' I felt desperately hot, the palms of my hands sweaty through my jeans. I clenched my fists.

'I see.'

A silence ensued.

'Mrs Fellowes, I have to persist in asking you whether it's usual for you to leave your children alone at night, as you did last night.'

'No, never!' My head jerked up. 'And I told you, I didn't leave them, Rose said she'd have them. She was lying!' 'And during the day?'

'What?'

'Did you leave them during the day?'

'No,' I whispered, aghast. 'No! Max is only four, for Christ's sake!'

'How about the time,' he flipped the notebook open, 'he fell in the river ... could have drowned by all accounts, and wasonly saved by the quick thinking of Lady Fellowes's nephew, mid-morning, while you were still in bed, or the time Lady Fellowes said she found you drunk, lying comatose on a sofa, smashed bottles on the floor, the children playing with the bits of gla.s.s, or the time-'

'Stop, stop!' I gasped. 'No! No to all of it! I mean yes, OK the first bit, the river, but not like that. Ben did fall in, but comatose on the sofa that's a blatant lie!'

'So when he fell in the river, did you know where he was?'

'What?'

'Did you know he'd gone off on his own?'

I stared. His eyes were not unkind, but focused, direct.

'She told you all this?' I whispered. 'In hospital?'

'Wrote it down over the course of a few months. This is her notebook. There are pages of it, Mrs Fellowes.' He flipped through to demonstrate. 'Pages and pages. Max asking for Bacardi Breezers at a party. The children left alone for days on end, no food, so coming up to her for meals. Ben withdrawn and traumatised, scrawling obscenities on walls. She said she was worried about them, about their welfare. Began to doc.u.ment the neglect.'

'Neglect!'

'We have to verify it, of course, from other members of the family, but we've already done that to a certain extent. Subtly, of course, since they're still in a state of shock. But dates and times have been confirmed, wherever possible. Sometimes, naturally, Lady Fellowes was the sole witness, so it's difficult-'

'Difficult because she's dead!' I shrieked. 'And she's lying!'

'Mrs Fellowes,' he cleared his throat. 'We've also talked to Ben.'

'Ben? When?'

'Just now in the front garden. He was out in the road when we arrived, getting something out of the boot of the car. We just introduced ourselves and had a little chat on the front wall. Nothing scary or intrusive, of course, although we would like to speak to him at length at a later date. But he did confirm he started the fire.'

'No! Ben ... no!' I stood up, trembling. 'Why?'

The blonde girl shrugged and spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft and silky. 'Who knows? But children are driven to do all sorts of things when they're unhappy. It's often for attention, we find.'

I swung round to her, my eyes searching her face like headlamps. 'Who are you?'

'I'm from social services. Mrs Fellowes, your husband is dead, isn't he?'

'Yes,' I whispered, horrified.

'And so you're a one-parent family. We do sympathise. We do know how hard that can be. Nevertheless ...' she regarded me, shaking before her, hesitated, glanced at the man.

'Mrs Fellowes,' he cleared his throat, 'are you here with your parents for the duration?'

'Sorry?'

'I mean, for a while?'

'Yes, yes we're staying here.' I felt numb, in a trance.

'Good.' He exchanged glances with his friend and they both got to their feet. He shut the book. I recognised it, with its floral cover. It was one of Rose's journals, from the morningroom, one she used to write in, every day, at her desk at the long window, looking out over the parkland. Looking out towards the barn ... queen of all she surveyed.

'Well, I'm afraid I'll have to advise them to temporarily care for the children,' said the woman with the silky voice, picking up her briefcase. 'I need to make a report first of course, and we won't make an immediate care order if your parents can act in loco parentis.'

'In loco but I'm not absent!'

'But not effective,' she said softly. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Fellowes, but someone has died as a result of your son's actions. That makes him a danger to society. He is under age, but the crime is nevertheless arson. It's also most certainly manslaughter, and possibly ... well. We also believe his actions to be a direct result of yours. The boy's own grandmother was concerned for your sons' safety, keeping carefully doc.u.mented evidence, even before the fire. I must ask you not to remove your children from this house, Mrs Fellowes. Not to abduct them in any way, not to take them out of the country, and for the present, to give your parents full control. We'll go and speak to them now. You'll be visited later on today by the local Social Services since this is their patch and not mine, and we'll work together on this one. We'll be in touch as soon as a full report has been made. Good day, Mrs Fellowes.'

And leaving me standing there, white-faced and shaking, they left, to find their way down to Maisie and Lucas, in the kitchen.