“Ah.” She seemed slightly embarrassed. “ You’ll have heard about the letter, then.”

George nodded. “Was it common knowledge in the village?”

“Oh yes. There were six or seven children who went to Tom and asked him to take them birdwatching. The parents of all those kids got letters from Bernard about Tom.”

“How did the parents react?”

“It made me so cross.”

She relived her anger at the memory of battles fought on Tom’s behalf with neighbours and customers.

“A lot of them believed it and stopped their kids from going out on the marsh with Tom. You see, Bernard was born and brought up in the village and Tom was an incomer …”

“With long hair and a girlfriend who was an unmarried mother,” George finished. “ Yes, I see.”

“He couldn’t have killed him.” Jack spoke suddenly. He was apologetic because he had interrupted. He almost blushed. They stared at him, surprised at his outburst. “Cranshaw couldn’t have killed Tom. Not early on that Saturday morning.”

“And how do you know that?” Ella asked, curious, a little offended at having to admit her ignorance.

“His mother had fallen again. Don’t you remember? I did tell you.” He looked at her wistfully, hoping that she would be able to relieve him of the burden of telling his story. As she looked blank, he continued.

“I was on my way to dig bait on the shore at the bottom of Anchor Lane. It was early—well before six, I’d guess. I’d just parked my car on that bit of grass at the end of the lane when Bernard came out of the house. There was a real thick fog, but I could tell that he was agitated. He must have seen me but he didn’t say anything. He was in an awful state. I went up to him and asked if I could help and he almost broke down. He was worried about his mother who’d had a fall. He said she’d got out of bed to go to the bathroom, then must have tripped, because he’d found her at the bottom of the stairs. They’re not on the phone. I’d done a bit of first aid so I went in to have a look at her. She didn’t seem too bad, only shaken and a bit bruised, but she was making a terrible fuss. I could tell that Bernard was worried so I said that I’d go and fetch Dr. Jamieson. I drove round to his house. I was there for some time.” He looked at Ella. “ You know what the doctor’s like.”

Ella snorted, expressing her disapproval of the elderly doctor who was notorious for his lethargy and absentmindedness.

“It took him a long time to get dressed and ready, so it was nearly seven thirty by the time we reached Bernard’s house.”

“So you waited for the doctor,” George said. “You didn’t drive straight back to Anchor Lane.”

“No, I waited. The doctor was worried about driving in the fog so I took him in my car.”