“There are some friends to see you, dear.”

Although they were ordinary words, they seemed to Molly wrong, out of context. It’s as if she’s calling to a child, Molly thought. She struggled to place the tone exactly. But she doesn’t sound like a mother, more like a nanny or a kindly, elderly aunt.

The doctor emerged from a door at the back of the house. They were all still standing in the hall.

“How nice to see you,” he said. “How very nice. Marjory, this is George Palmer-Jones. You will remember that I’ve talked about him very often. And this must be Molly.” He hardly acknowledged Molly’s presence, and continued quickly. “You must be stranded by the tide, of course. What good fortune that you’ve come today, George. I’ve just received Finches of the World from the publisher. I put in my order some months ago. I’d be glad of your opinion. There are one or two points that I’d question, but I haven’t your experience in the field.”

He talked George back into the room from which he had appeared and the women were left together. There was no sense of awkwardness. Marjory smiled sweetly and indulgently after her husband, and offered tea. She showed Molly into a small, rather cold sitting room, but Molly followed her into the kitchen, and she seemed not to mind.

“My husband has a passion for books,” she said as she filled the kettle. “ But then he was so bored when he retired that I was glad when he developed an interest.”

“Does he have any other interests?” Molly asked. “Apart from birdwatching, of course.”

“I don’t think that he is especially interested in birdwatching. Not any more. But he does enjoy going over to the island. It’s good for him. I do hope this unpleasantness doesn’t spoil it for him.”

“It must have been a great shock.”

“Yes. Although he has taken it better than I would have imagined. Of course shock presents itself in many forms.”

Molly said nothing.

Marjory continued: “You see, we knew them both quite well, the … victims. Charles was a great character and Paul worked with him very closely when he was buying the island. They had their little arguments, but really they got on so well.” Again she could have been talking about children. “And of course Pamela was one of Paul’s receptionists. That was just before we were married and I never met her then. Unfortunately she left the practice soon after, and they didn’t bump into each other again until they met on the island. We have become very fond of her children, Edward and Sian. You see, we were late marrying, and we never had children. I think, in many ways, that it was fortunate. Paul doesn’t find it easy to mix socially. But he did enjoy the company of the children. Perhaps he was a little foolish—he did tend to spoil them so, especially Sian—but there was no harm in it.”