‘And George Elkin’s grandfather is buried at Longis Common, which is going to be dug up too,’ Hawthorne said, innocently. ‘Is that the sort of connection you mean?’

Judith fell silent, so her husband cut in. ‘I think that’s a little unfair. The plans for Longis Common allow for the complete restoration of the grasslands. In fact, they insist on it. There will be a few months’ disruption, but after that nobody will notice any difference.’

‘Is it disruption? Or desecration?’

‘Are you taking the side of the protestors, Mr Hawthorne?’ Colin Matheson was as close to anger as he could manage. ‘Because if so, I think you should leave my house.’

‘I’m not taking anyone’s side,’ Hawthorne replied. ‘It was your wife who suggested a connection between what happened here and the death of Charles le Mesurier. I’m just trying to understand the mindset. Anyway, from what I understand, now that le Mesurier is dead, the line may not go ahead.’

He had somehow made that sound like an accusation and Matheson flinched. ‘Charles le Mesurier had nothing to do with the decision-making process,’ he replied. ‘He made his views known, but so did many other people. The committee made its recommendations based on the evidence: the financial and technological benefits weighed against any environmental consequences.’

Hawthorne turned to Judith. ‘Did you support the line?’ he asked.

She hadn’t expected the question. ‘Nobody asked me my opinion,’ she faltered.

‘But . . . ?’

‘Obviously, I supported my husband.’

‘How well did you know Charles le Mesurier?’

She looked to Colin Matheson as if he could somehow prevent this line of questioning, but he couldn’t help her. ‘Charles le Mesurier was probably the most famous person on the island,’ she said. ‘Everyone knew him.’

‘That’s not what I asked you.’

‘I met him socially quite a few times. He invited us to dinner once or twice. I wouldn’t say we were friends. Of course, I got to know him better through the festival. Once he got involved.’

‘The festival was your idea.’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get him to finance it?’

‘It was a business opportunity,’ Judith said. ‘I told him sponsoring a literary festival would be good for Spin-the-wheel. And he liked meeting well-known people. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite work out. We invited lots of famous authors – Philip Pullman, Val McDermid, Jacqueline Wilson, Alexander McCall Smith – but they all turned us down.’

‘What did you think of Charles le Mesurier?’ Hawthorne asked. At least he had the decency to avoid my eye.

‘I didn’t really have an opinion.’

‘What about his wife?’

Judith Matheson sat up stiffly. ‘I hardly knew her.’

‘But everyone’s connected on Alderney.’

‘I met her a few times. We had nothing in common.’

Colin Matheson leaned forward. ‘Actually, Mr Hawthorne, if you don’t have any more questions . . .’