‘You can go in next,’ Joanna said. ‘I’m not in a hurry. I’ve nothing better to do.’ And she walked right away from the van and sat on the grass at the side of the lake. Molly felt she had let her down.

She handed in Ursula’s books to the librarian and explained that there was no need to return the tickets. Marie Liddle was browsing close to the door and Molly was about to speak to her, to ask about Vic, when the younger woman turned abruptly to the librarian, said she couldn’t find anything she wanted and left the van.

‘That’s a pity,’ the librarian said to Molly. ‘There’s a lot of new stock on today. Still, you can’t hope to please everyone.’

Molly stood at the door and watched while Marie walked across the grass to where Joanna was sitting. Her high-heeled sandals made the progress precarious, rather comical, but Molly did not feel like laughing. There was something desperate about the woman. Joanna stood up as she approached and started to walk away but Marie caught her arm. Molly could not hear what the gamekeeper’s wife said, but Joanna’s reply was clear and angry.

‘Piss off,’ she said. ‘And leave me alone. For once my bloody family’s right. It’s best for everyone. I’d have thought you’d be pleased. I’ve made up my mind and I’m not going to change it now.’

She pulled herself free from Marie’s grip and walked away up the road to the school house. Molly, still standing in the van, had found the encounter extremely interesting. She listened to the librarian muttering in a shocked voice about bad language and thought what puritans the young had become.

Daniel Craven waited all morning to be summoned to see the policeman. Everyone on the estate knew that the inspector was in the office taking statements. After the newspaper articles the place was buzzing with rumour and gossip. There were reporters camped out by the east gate, just by the Lodge. They had been there when he woke in the morning. He could hear them laughing and through the kitchen window saw them standing in a conspiratorial group, drinking coffee from a shared flask. Later a van from the independent television company parked beside them and children waiting for the school bus banged on the window to get the autograph of the reporter they had seen on the six o’clock local news. Craven was tempted to go out to them, to say ‘I can give you a story’. For a day he would be more famous than Marcus Grenville and his picture would be in all the papers. But he was frightened and confused and when the reporters crowded round him as he left the Lodge he shook his head and told them he had nothing to say.