Sally started to walk from Fenquay to Rushy. There was no bus at the right time on Saturday, it was a fine day and it was not far to walk, even with Barnaby in the pushchair. But just outside the village a butcher’s delivery van stopped, offered her a lift and took her all the way to the Windmill. She saw this good luck as an omen. It would be a good day. She felt light-headed with expectation, with a teenage, romantic anticipation that all that lay ahead would be happy and fulfilling. Overnight she had convinced herself that George Palmer-Jones thought that Peter was innocent.

She knew that he had given her no grounds for that belief, but she had no doubt at all that it was so. Peter was innocent, and the only reason he had not come to see her was because he had not known that she was living in the area. Soon, perhaps even that day, he would return from Scotland, George would tell him all about her and Barnaby, and they would begin their life together again. All her fears had vanished. Rushy was clean and fresh after the storm and in the still air was the scent of lilac and cut grass. It was a day for hope and for dreams to come true.

Ella had never before seen Sally so elated. The younger woman filled the place with a giggling good humour. She was singing as she worked and she made silly jokes. Barnaby too seemed to have caught his mother’s excitement. The kitchen door had been left open so that he could play on the short grass outside. He had found a bright, striped ball, almost as big as himself, and he rolled over with it on the grass, laughing helplessly. Ella fed him chocolate biscuits and fizzy drinks.

Ella was glad to have Sally there. During the day the Windmill filled steadily with depressed and tired twitchers who had travelled from all over the country to see the blue-cheeked bee-eater. Sally worked faster than Sandra, so that the birdwatchers at least could not complain that they had to wait for their food. Ella had passed on the information about the bee-eater to most of them, and although nothing directly was said to her, she could sense their disappointment and frustration. She did not want to give them further grounds for complaint, and Sally distracted them from their depression and anger. Most of the twitchers had little contact with women, so to be teased and flattered by a pretty woman made them feel good. It was a novelty. In some way it compensated for the wasted trip to Norfolk.

Sally worked deftly and quickly, but she did not concentrate on what she was doing. Each time the door opened and a new group of birdwatchers pushed past the rucksacks into the crowded building she looked up to see if she recognized the new arrival. Because she was sure that Peter would come to find her that day. In Scotland he would have heard the rumour of the rare bird. He would have come home. Each time she had to turn her disappointment into a bantering call of welcome.