As he looked down over the island, Doctor Derbyshire experienced, as he always did, a sense of achievement and of pride. Charlie might have financed the observatory, but the idea had been his. Without his organization, his persistence, Charlie would have grown bored with the negotiations to purchase, would have given up the project. Charlie was like a child and the doctor knew how to handle him.

Mrs. Derbyshire drove her husband to the quay. He disliked driving. He fussed over his luggage and made her check again that his favourite jersey was packed. She sighed with maternal irritation. He had not been happy since his retirement from general practice. She was grateful for the island. It stopped him mooning around the house, sulky and petulant as a schoolboy. That had been a dangerous time and she had been worried. The planning and the intriguing had given him life again, given him a future.

Paul Derbyshire looked at his watch and then over the shore. The Land Rover was on its way. John was a reliable boy. He looked forward to the committee meeting, planned his chairing of it. The committee were all well-meaning, enthusiastic people, but needed a strong chairman to give them proper direction. His wife watched his enjoyment with satisfaction, and planned a private, pleasant weekend. They were a happy couple but she understood nothing of the complexities of his affection for the island. She saw it as a toy, a distraction. It kept him busy.

But it’s the only contact I have with real beauty, he thought as he waited for the Land Rover. It’s the daughter I never had, my creation.

She would never have imagined him capable of such lyrical folly. She waved at the other birdwatchers and drove off to her knitting and a nice glass of sweet sherry.