‘I’m freezing. This heater works?’ He fiddles with the controls and I feel a gust of hot air rising between us. McFaul is checking the road behind us.

‘Anyone there?’

‘No one. But that means sod all. Say what you’ve got to say. Just tell me.’

‘OK.’ I nod. ‘I had dinner with some people you know the other night. God knows why they invited me, but they did.’

‘So, who are they? These people?’

I list them in order, faces around the table, starting with Bill Penny. McFaul is gazing out through the windscreen.

‘And?’ he asks. His voice is stony.

‘We were talking about Christianne. They asked about you, obviously, and about not finding a body, and about the arrest, but then Beth explained what really happened. I’d no idea. Truly none.’

‘So what did she say?’

‘She said they’d taken a call late. It would have been Sunday night. You both wanted to go to Exmouth.’ I hesitate. Something’s wrong here, I can feel it. ‘You remember that call? To Beth and Presley? Asking for a lift?’

‘Go on.’

‘She came round, picked you both up, took you over to Exmouth. You were sitting in the back of the car. Christianne was quite emotional. Apparently, she’d had a bad day.’ I pause again. ‘The banana? You remember that? Not being able to peel the bloody thing?’

Nothing. No nod. No confirmation. Just another grunt.

‘So, what happened? When we got to Exmouth?’

‘You wanted to go to the dock. There was a big tide. It was late, no one around …’ I shrug. ‘So she did it. Threw herself in. Disappeared out to sea. Beth had gone by then, but you phoned her after you walked back home, told her what had happened.’ Still he doesn’t react. I’m frowning now, trying to choose my words carefully, trying to sieve the facts from something rather darker. ‘You remember all this?’ I catch just the faintest hint of a nod. ‘Is that a yes?’

‘Could be.’

‘Right. So Christianne threw herself in. A tide like that, there’s no getting out.’ I pause for a moment, ashamed to be setting this little trap. ‘Stone-cold sober, that’s a brave thing to do. We agree?’

‘Yeah.’

‘She hadn’t been drinking?’

‘No way.’

‘And you?’

‘No.’

‘OK. So why did you leave the clothes on the beach? That Monday night?’

He looks away, gives the question some thought.

‘To protect Beth,’ he mutters at last. ‘Isn’t it fucking obvious?’

I’m back home within minutes. I’ve parked the car outside Evelyn’s and Andy has disappeared into his own bungalow without a word of farewell or even a backward glance. I linger behind the wheel, trying to make sense of Beth’s story.