‘Because they didn’t want anyone to find out the truth.’ Alex stood up abruptly, obviously angry with herself for giving so much away.

‘So the drugs, the sudden illness. All that was untrue? Is that what you mean?’

‘No,’ Alex said and returned to her seat. ‘I don’t mean that.’

They sat looking at each other. Outside there was bird-song, bright and sharp as it always is in the spring after a winter of silence. The baby was lying on the floor of the playpen, his thumb in his mouth, almost asleep.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Alex’s words were loud and aggressive. She had realised quite suddenly that this was no ritual social call to exchange memories of a woman they had both admired.

‘Ursula was poisoned,’ Molly said. ‘The police think it was murder.’

‘Why would anyone want to murder Ursula?’ Shock had made her angry. She thought Molly had taken advantage of her hospitality and deceived her.

‘She could be awkward,’ Molly said. ‘She asked difficult questions, too.’

‘So that’s why you’re here? Because you think Joanna killed your aunt?’

‘No,’ Molly said. ‘Not that. It’s not as specific as that. The police will investigate, of course. They’ll ask questions in Crowford, check statements and technical details. But they won’t understand what the people involved were really like. They never met Ursula – how could they know the effect she had on people? Then they’re scared of Marcus Grenville’s influence and won’t ask for personal details about his family unless they’re convinced it’s relevant. That’s what this is all about. That’s why I’m here. It’s nothing to do with revenge and nothing much to do with justice. I just want to understand and’ – she stopped, thinking how pompous she sounded. It would serve her right if Alex laughed at her and sent her packing. But Alex seemed to be taking the words seriously.

‘I don’t see how it would help,’ she said with some regret, ‘to bring up all that stuff about Joanna’s past. You should ask her.’

‘So talk about the present!’ Molly cried, relieved that at least Alex was prepared to listen to her. ‘You’re still a friend of Joanna’s. Tell me what’s going on now. I met her on Sunday and she seemed under a terrible strain. Is she happy?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t think Joanna has ever been that. Not consistently. She wasn’t brought up to be. She adored her father but he was never there. Her mother was cold, repressive. She had always been frightened of Olivia. She never, somehow, got the hang of being happy.’

‘But things must be different now. She has a stable marriage and a successful career. Can’t she forget what happened to her before she came to live at Monk’s Wood?’