Lucy Greenwell

The nanny's bedroom, a bathroom and the children's bedroom where Gussie and her little sister slept that night.

It's the same armchair.

It's atmospheric and for me it's nostalgic.

I haven't been up here since I was a child.

There's an earthy smell of damp books or boxes and something else, soap maybe.

The carpet is light green, just like it always was.

And on the wall there's a tapestry with a prayer.

The bathroom has two entrances, a door from the landing and another door into Jennifer's bedroom.

There's no window and there's a cupboard in the corner where towels are kept.

There's a lock on the door too.

Trying to piece it all together is important for Jess.

It's important for me too, because there's a glaring practical question here.

How on earth did Jennifer hide the birth from everyone around her?

So we tried to work out the timings.

There was a housekeeper.

So if she'd left you at 8 o'clock... She's deaf.

Anyone who's given birth or has attended one knows that it's not a quiet affair.

The deaf housekeeper, she wouldn't have heard anything.

But the two girls Jennifer was looking after, Gussie and her sister, they might have.

We know that Jennifer takes Gussie to school each morning, her younger sister in tow, a 45-minute round trip.