George Palmer-Jones had been invited to the conference at the Cadver because he had a reputation as an independent ornithologist. His name often appeared in scientific journals and he was considered a prominent member of the natural history establishment. He accepted the invitation because work had already taken him north and because his wife’s aunt lived at Crowford. He suspected that nothing constructive would come of the conference. It would be perhaps a chance to meet old friends and it gave Molly the excuse to visit Ursula. He had met Marcus Grenville on other occasions – they had served together on the council of an environmental charity – and had not been impressed.

On Friday they had a meeting with a solicitor in York who sometimes gave them work and spent the night in a pub on the Durham Moors. Molly, disturbed by the phone call to Ursula, was restless and impatient, and almost persuaded George that they should drive on to Crowford on Friday evening.

‘Are you mad?’ he said. ‘It would be midnight before we arrived. Besides, I want to look for blackcock on the moor before breakfast.’

So Molly had to wait until he had returned from bird-watching on Saturday morning, then they set off west, across the empty spaces of the north Pennines. Molly drove. George would be tempted to look for merlins or harriers at the same time as driving, and on such steep and narrow roads her nerves would not stand it.

They came to Appleworth soon after nine, just as the shops were opening, and it was already busy. The town had been built along the black peaty waters of the River Crow. There was a low bridge, only wide enough for single-lane traffic and streets of small squat grey houses. There was already one coach parked in the square. In the summer Appleworth would be filled with trippers. It had been used by a television company as the location of a long-running serial about a rural doctor’s practice and now tourists flocked there to see its charms first hand.

The road to Crowford followed the river. Molly was reminded of adolescent trips to visit her aunt and uncle. There had been a station at Appleworth then and Ursula had collected her in a large and comfortable car.

‘My parents never quite approved of Ursula,’ she said suddenly. She remembered the whispered conversations at home before her aunt’s wedding, and the shocked silences that descended whenever she entered the room.

‘Oh?’ he said. ‘Why?’ He suspected that Molly’s parents had never quite approved of him.

‘They thought she married beneath her,’ Molly said. ‘ They thought it would never work out.’

‘But it did?’

‘Of course. Perhaps they were too wrapped up in each other. They seemed to have no time for anyone else. When Fred died Ursula was devastated.’

‘How did she meet him?’