As George held the door to show Jennifer out on to the street he was aware that the receptionist was watching them, and when he turned to smile a polite goodbye, her eyes were more curious than ever. Jennifer turned too and gave her a defiant wave.

The very good lunch lasted for a long time, and George expressed some anxiety about her clients’ well-being.

“I’ve nothing arranged, for this afternoon. There’s a team meeting. I worry about my clients, but I can’t get excited about team meetings. There are usually endless arguments about who leaves the tea room in a mess, and I really don’t care. Especially as I’m usually the culprit. I’ll tell them that there was a crisis. My clients are always having crises.”

George thought it would be rather pleasant to be helped by Jenny Kenning.

“The week before he died,” he said, “Tom told a friend that he was worried about his girlfriend and her child, and that he was going to talk to someone called Jenny. Did he come to see you?”

“Yes. He phoned up on the Thursday morning before he died. I know because I had to check my records for the police. He was always very anxious about Sally and Barnaby; I thought that he worried unnecessarily. Sally attempted suicide once, more than six months ago. The doctors diagnosed a severe case of post-natal depression, and kept her in hospital for a couple of weeks. Besides all the chemical and physical causes, it’s easy to see why she got so depressed. She lived on her own and didn’t seem to know anyone. She said once that she came to Norfolk because she knew a few twitchers and had heard them talk about it, but she arrived in July and there are very few birdwatchers here in mid-summer. I got the impression that she had lived here a while as a child.

“The only cottage she could afford to rent was cold and damp. She must have been so anxious about the baby. And Barnaby was incredibly demanding when he was very small. He never seemed to sleep, and only stopped screaming when he was picked up and cuddled. She was exhausted. And even then she never took her feelings of frustration and violence out on the baby. Only on herself.

“But Tom never saw her depression as something natural which anyone else in the same circumstances would have experienced, a sort of safety valve, which at least allowed her to survive it. He saw it as a scar, an innate weakness which she’d carry around for the rest of her life. He was great when she first came out of hospital, very kind and supportive. He did a lot to make the cottage more comfortable. He played with Barnaby for hours, he even washed and changed him, to give Sally a chance to rest. He hated his work at the hotel, but carried on with it. He was trying to save so that they could get somewhere to live together, but I don’t think he would have managed to save very much. He was a terrible worrier and he escaped from worry by drinking. He smoked quite heavily too, and he was very poorly paid.”