Shona looked at Tommy. He hesitated. Cleared his throat. "It looks very much that way. Anecdotally there's evidence of other senior managers in similar positions destroying evidence and the Environmental Audit Committee is on the case, and I'm afraid I can see why. There are huge gaps, Flora, huge."

"Is that why he asked you to come across?" I looked at Tommy. "I mean — no, actually, why would he? If he knew there were gaping holes, surely he wouldn't want you to see? Surely he knew you'd discover them?" I felt sick.

Tommy massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “They've actually been really cleverly covered up. Explanations given. Lengthy and investigative reports written. I've read them. Very plausible. Frost, hard winters, then sudden thaw. Natural causes, leading to pipeline leaks in Penzance, or explosions actually into the sea in Falmouth, on to beaches. But, in one case, left for eight months, Flora. In Newquay. Eight months. Well into spring and summer. Broken, badly made pipes, pumping raw sewage, straight into the harbor. Fishermen, taking their trawlers out, bringing back their catch. Ready to eat. Local kids diving off the quay, coming up with crap in their mouths."

"Perhaps he didn't know. I mean — didn't know until it was too late. Then tried to fix it?"

"Except there's evidence of it being reported and of him ducking it as far back as February, and it continues until October."

"But why? Why not fix it in February?"

"Because he was scared of the shareholders. Scared of the millions it would take to do it, what it would wipe off the shares. Not just one pipe, but endemically, systemically, across the whole of this coastline. All Bellingdon pipes. And scared, too, of the fine from the Environment Agency, which used to be piffling, so much so that frankly companies took fines on the chin, accepted them as the price of doing business. But they're getting much bigger. So he covered his tracks, did minor repairs and held off on colossal overhaul. At first when I looked it seemed fine, and I think that's why he asked me to come across. To check his records, his accounts — his whitewash, if you like — and it all looked in order to me. I told him so, that it looked fine. In fact, I wondered why he'd asked me to come. I mean, he'd paid me. Or the company had. He said it was just an excuse to get me over here really, slapped me on the back, and we went sailing. Had a great day. But his mood was so changed. So . . . buoyant, compared to his earlier, anxious one, that it made me think. I guess it made me suspicious." He looked sad. "Not a nice thing to say about a friend. That night, I went back into the study and dug deeper. I was horrified. He had been very clever — Hugo's no fool — but not clever enough."

"I found you on the sofa, that morning."