‘It’s private land, but it’s also my new job. Come on, I’ll show you. You’re a natural at this! You shouldn’t live in a city.’

Graeme got off his board and showed her that he was waist deep, so Tilly did the same. They pulled their boards to the beach and dragged them ashore. She was surprisingly breathless from the exertion and she made a mental note to try to get back in shape.

‘What is it? Your new job?’ she asked.

‘This is the largest surviving private estate on Derwent Water, and I’ve been put in charge of the refurbishment. It’s going to be an amazing project: a huge leisure complex for high-end visitors.’

‘Who owns it?’

‘Some rich family from London, of course. The Montague-Rolands. My guess is they won’t spend too much time here, though; it’s purely a business venture.’

Butterflies tickled her tummy as she realised where she was. She also noticed the police tape.

‘What’s that here for?’

‘Ah, we had a nasty incident here at the weekend, but don’t let it put you off, it’s totally out of character for the area.’

‘I did hear something about a man dying in a boat?’

‘That’s where he was found. Apparently this is where he actually died.’ He pointed up at the house.

‘I heard he was murdered.’

‘Yeah, he was. I found him.’

Tilly stared at him. ‘Really? Oh my God! That’s awful!’ The joy in her voice emanated from the pure stroke of luck; luckily, it also made her horror seem more genuine.

‘I’ve had better days.’ He turned his back on her and Tilly realised she would have to tread carefully. This was where George had stayed; where he’d called her from. She hadn’t read anywhere that he’d been killed in this house, and she wondered how Graeme knew so much.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. Do you want to talk about it? You seem to know a lot about what happened. I’m guessing this sort of thing is very rare here. In London it’s a different story.’

‘Sure. I didn’t know the guy. I found him in one of our beautiful refurbished launches; he was slumped over with a massive hole in his skull. But he was staying here – old family friend apparently. People talk, and I also know the detective in charge.’