‘She said she wasn’t going far, that she’d be back in an hour or so, but when it got to four o’clock I got worried about her. I mean, after what she’d seen with Mr Lem in the Snuggery, she wasn’t herself, poor thing. I blame myself, really. I shouldn’t have let her go out without me. I could see she was still upset. And when it got to four fifteen, I knew something was wrong and straight away I called Mr Matheson and Dr Queripel – they’d always been close to her – but they hadn’t seen her. I tried some of her other friends . . . she keeps an address book with their numbers by her bed. None of them had seen her. So then I went and told the police officers that they needed to do something. But would they listen to me? They were far too busy packing up to get home. So that was another hour wasted. Finally, I put my foot down. I said there was obviously someone dangerous on the island – I mean, anyone could have told them that – and that if anything had happened to her it would be down to them. And that was when they called their boss – not that he’s been much help.’ She scowled at Torode. ‘I mean, where is she? She can’t just have disappeared.’

‘How well do you know Mrs le Mesurier?’

‘I told you. I’ve been with her for twelve years. And although I wouldn’t say this to anyone, I’m not just her housekeeper. I like to think of her as a friend. She’s always asking after my family and she’s generous too. There’s always an envelope at Christmas and presents for my girls.’ She sniffed. ‘People may say bad things about her. Well, of course they would. She’s wealthy and she’s gorgeous and she has all this. But she’s one of the most good-hearted people I’ve ever met. Look at the school! Both my girls went to St Anne’s and she’s always helping with books for the library and prizes for sports day. She took twenty of the children to London once – to the Natural History Museum – and it all came out of her own pocket. The coach, the ferry, everything. That’s the sort of person she is, and if someone’s hurt her . . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

I looked out of the window. It wasn’t anywhere near dark yet, but the sun had sunk low in the sky and I realised that it was too late to begin a search. Mauve shadows stretched across the lawn, the silent bulk of the Snuggery beyond, and for some reason I found myself thinking of Shakespeare’s play The Tempest. When I was at school, I’d played Caliban (although I’d auditioned for Ariel) and I recalled the lines: