Ryan answered again. “Because they want Midsummer’s Day to be a time of celebration. They wouldn’t have left Daisy asleep. I’m afraid something else happened to your sister and we’re trying to find out what it was.”

“Then it wasn’t me?” Zoe looked like a young girl as she leaned into Aurora and rested her head on her front.

“No, Zoe,” Keya reassured her. “It wasn’t you. But when did you last see your sister?”

Zoe sniffed, and Aurora loosened her grip. “What we all need is a cup of tea. And Viv, you should check the shop. Who knows what’s been taken while we’ve been in here? Will you be all right, pet?” Aurora asked Zoe.

Zoe nodded, so Viv left the room, followed through the jangling beads by Aurora.

Then Zoe explained, “On Sunday, I went to her and Theo’s house for lunch. She made nachos and fajitas. They’re my favourite. Dad won’t eat anything foreign. He’s strictly meat and potatoes.”

“And how did your sister seem?”

“She was happy, and very excited about the summer solstice event up at the stones. Theo protested and said he couldn’t go because he needed to prepare the mill for the incoming harvest. But Daisy pleaded with him, and of course, he agreed to go with her.”

“Did you want to go too?”

“I did, but Dad wouldn’t let me, and I’m supposed to be at school today.”

“Do you have an exam?” Keya asked in a concerned tone.

“No, my A levels are next year.”

“And you didn’t see Daisy yesterday or Monday?” Keya pressed.

“No, I was at school both days and yesterday I helped Aurora and Viv in the shop after school while they got ready for the solstice event up at the stones. I did see Daisy leave the bakery on foot and she waved to me, but she didn’t stop.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after five o’clock, I think.”

“And did she appear to be in a hurry?”

“Yes, but then she also had to get ready to go up to the standing stones.”

“And she was on her own? You didn’t see her stop and speak to anyone?” Keya asked.

“No, she just walked down the street and past the pub. And that was the last I saw of her.”

The tears and the sobs started again.

Aurora backed into the small room carrying a tray of hourglass-shaped mugs in bold floral patterns and colours. Keya caught a much stronger aroma of lavender.

“Lavender tea,” Aurora announced. “Good for relaxation and relieving stress and anxiety.”

“It smells very aromatic, but I’m afraid we have to go,” Keya said. “But I will need to come back and take statements from you and Viv.” But not now, Keya thought. She really didn’t fancy lavender tea.

Outside Aurora’s shop, Keya once again breathed in lungfuls of fresh air. It really was a lovely summer day. Too nice to be working on such a tragic case.

Her stomach rumbled. It was way past breakfast time and all she’d had was an early morning coffee on her drive to the standing stones.

“I need something to eat,” she told Ryan, who looked relieved. They walked the few metres to the bakery, but the front door was closed.

“Let’s try the shop on the main road,” Keya suggested, and they turned round.

They walked past the solid stone building of the Malt Shovel pub, and then Keya heard the calming trickle of water. As they approached the stone bridge, she saw a shallow stream. Compared with the River Coln, which ran alongside her cafe, it didn’t look large enough to have once powered the waterwheel for Lower Rollright’s mill.

The Rollright Village Store was well stocked with an assortment of everyday items, as well as postcards and Standing Stones themed merchandise. It was much larger than it appeared from the outside, and the rear, windowless section was given over to books and a wall dedicated to the history of the standing stones.

Dora, wearing a pair of yellow rubber gloves passed Keya carrying a plastic bucket of foaming water. She said to the woman behind the counter, “I’ve had another go at the stain from last week. It’s still a dull orange, but hopefully it’ll fade.”

“Ash had to drop that bottle,” the woman replied.

Approaching the counter, Keya observed a shelf containing an interesting selection of local honey, homemade chutney, and a tall bottle with a bright orange label with Rollright Hot Sauce printed on it.

Beside the till, Ryan was staring at a counter of ready-made sandwiches and a few lifeless looking salads in plastic containers.

There was also a self-service coffee machine. Not ideal. But it would have to do. She took a paper cup, placed it under the coffee machine’s spout and pressed the button for a latte. She didn’t usually drink coffee at this time, but she didn’t fancy the machine’s version of tea, and besides, she needed the extra caffeine.

She also picked up a packet of uninspiring looking egg mayonnaise sandwiches in plain white bread and, as a treat, a bar of chocolate.

As she approached the counter, a woman with a round face and short grey hair with blue undertones spotted her and enquired, with a note of reverence, “Are you investigating Daisy’s death?”

“We are,” Keya replied. “Did you know Daisy well?”

“Ever since we moved to the village fifteen years ago. Silas loves all things old, and he was drawn here by the standing stones. Daisy was just a girl back then, and the family seemed … happy enough.”

“When did Daisy’s mother leave?”

“It must have been five years ago, maybe six. And it was quite a shock. To run off with another man and leave her children … but I’m not sure I can blame her. Dennis isn’t a pleasant man, especially with a drink inside him.”

“Daisy’s father, Dennis Bentham, has a problem with alcohol?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that, but he does spend a considerable amount of time in the Malt Shovel. And people say he’s liable to raise his voice, if not his hand, when he gets home. I think Daisy could manage him, but her poor sister can’t. I’ve considered calling social services, but I don’t like to interfere,” the woman said as she ran Keya’s purchases across the till. “That’ll be £7.89.”

Keya handed over a £10 note and said, “Mrs ?”

“Reid. Silas is my husband.”

Keya presumed she meant Dr Reid. “Mrs Reid, when did you last see Daisy?”

“I saw her van pass yesterday, but in person? Probably last week when I popped into the bakery to buy a loaf of her stoneground bread. It’s so much nicer than the sliced stuff.”

It was, Keya thought, picking up her sliced bread sandwiches and thinking of the far more appetising sandwich Daisy had made for her the week before.

“And did Daisy have any enemies in the village?”

“Enemies?” questioned Mrs Reid. “Everyone loved Daisy.”