‘To be honest, we didn’t talk, that wasn’t why we were there.’ She tilted her head and gave a sly smile. ‘Prince Philip used to sail a lot, and had a friend, Uffa Fox, who skippered for him. Fox had a French girlfriend who didn’t speak English. One day, legend has it, Fox told His Royal Highness that he was getting married to this lady. Prince Philip asked him how on earth he could marry someone who didn’t speak a word of English, when he didn’t speak a word of French. Apparently, Uffa Fox replied, “There are only three things in life worth doing, eating, drinking and making love. Conversation adds little to any of these.” Wouldn’t you agree?’

Grace looked at her stonily, not rising to her challenge. ‘Did Niall Paternoster ever confide in you about marital issues with his wife, Eden?’

‘Of course he did, but I’m not a marriage wrecker. Eden confided in me, too.’

‘She wasn’t happy?’

‘As I just said, I’m not a marriage wrecker. I wouldn’t have done what I did – am doing – if I felt they had any future in their marriage. She’d told me on a number of occasions, when I’d seen her looking upset, that she was in a marriage she wanted out of.’

‘So,’ Polly said, ‘you stepped into the breach, a kind of support?’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘Really?’ Grace said. ‘What exactly is it like?’

She looked at each of them for a brief moment, warily. ‘I’m afraid I’ve told you all I know.’

‘I don’t think you have,’ Grace replied calmly. ‘I think you know a lot more.’

She paused. ‘If I’m reading you right, you suspect that Niall and I killed – murdered – Eden?’

Grace leaned forward across the table, locking eyes with her. ‘Did you?’

She stood up abruptly. ‘I’m sorry, you asked me to come in to help you with your enquiries about Eden Paternoster being missing. You didn’t tell me you were going to accuse me of her murder. This interview is over. I’m not prepared to talk to you any more without a lawyer present. If you want to arrest me, go ahead – otherwise I’m out of here.’ She stared at both of them in turn, challenging them. ‘Are you going to arrest me?’

Grace shook his head. ‘No, we are not.’

‘Fine, goodbye.’

Scooping up her handbag, she turned her back on them and strode out of the room.

91

Saturday 7 September

As the door slammed behind Rebecca Watkins, the wake of her perfume hanging in the air, Roy Grace and Polly Sweeney looked at each other.

‘Nice lady,’ Polly said. ‘Not.’

‘Her junior work colleague confides in her about her marital difficulties, so she lends a sympathetic ear, then goes and shags the woman’s husband. What does that say about her?’

Polly looked bemused. ‘She’s just a kind and caring person who thought it would be the best way to help her colleague through her difficulties?’