‘I shouldn’t think so. Mrs Ottway was no real relation to him, was she? I expect he’s got better things to do.’

There was a silence and to fill it he began to talk about the weather. It was really stuffy out, he said. There wasn’t a breath of air. If it stayed as calm as this they would have a go at burning that last strip of heather on the hill tomorrow. He’d go and see Craven in the afternoon, make sure everything was ready.

‘Isn’t it late for burning?’ she said and he was pleased because she seemed to be taking an interest again in his work.

‘It’s a bit late, maybe,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got an extension into April this year. It’s quite legal. It’d be a shame not to get it all done.’ He was thinking of the chart on the living room wall, the satisfaction of following it exactly.

‘But there’ll be birds nesting in the heather by now,’ she said. ‘Won’t there?’

‘I suppose there might be,’ he said. ‘But no grouse. Nothing worth saving.’

He went out, not sensing her distress, and she was left with an image of charred fledglings and adult birds who would never feed young. Only the arrival of the library van outside the house raised her to action. She fetched her books from the bedroom and thought she’d get a nice Catherine Cookson to take her mind off things.

When Molly got to the van there was a queue. People must have come from all over the valley to change their books. She stood in line behind Joanna Barton. The younger woman looked thin, tired, tense and for a moment she seemed not to recognise Molly.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I was coming to see you later. I wanted to know when Ursula’s funeral will be.’

She was dressed in denim jeans and a long brown sweater that reached almost to her knees. She clutched a pile of library books against her body.

‘We don’t know yet,’ Molly said. ‘When the police release the body. Probably early next week.’

The queue moved forward as an elderly woman hauled herself up the steep step into the van, but Joanna stayed where she was, so they stood a little apart.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked abruptly. ‘An inspector from Appleworth came to see us yesterday to take a statement about what we were doing on Friday night. He was very polite and answered all our questions, but you couldn’t really learn anything from what he said.’ She paused. ‘Do you know who killed Ursula?’

‘No,’ Molly said calmly. ‘Not yet.’

‘But you think you will?’

‘Oh yes,’ Molly said. ‘The police have a very good clear-up rate, you know, for murder.’

‘Good,’ Joanna said violently. ‘Good.’ She looked moodily across the lake.