She looked with more purpose into the mirror, hoping to find there the confidence to persuade herself to face her husband. She was good-looking, she thought, for fifty. Her hair, carefully tinted and curled, suited her. She was a little overweight, of course, but Colin liked his women big. She still had the soft, round dairymaid’s face.

When she returned to the living room, he was sitting on the sofa with a fresh glass of whisky, staring at the fire.

“Colin,” she said, sitting carefully beside him. “ What was that all about?”

“You heard what the man said.” Henshaw looked at her as if she were a complete fool, and when he continued, he emphasized every syllable. “Alice Parry was murdered. We were the last people to see her alive.”

“I know that.” She spoke calmly, trying to be patient, telling herself that he was very upset. “But what does it mean for us?”

“Nothing,” he shouted. “It means nothing.”

“I don’t understand why the policeman asked all those questions.”

“I don’t know,” he cried. “He’d heard we’d had a row over that land.”

“But that was all sorted out,” Rosemary said. “You told me last week that you’d sorted that out. We’d hear no more about it, you said.”

“That’s right,” he said. “ So it was.”

He took a drink from his glass.

“Colin,” she said. “Where were you last night?”

He looked at her sharply. “ What do you mean?” he asked. “I was here. You know I was here with you.”

“No,” she said. “ When Mrs. Parry left, I went to bed and watched the telly. But I heard the car go out. I stayed awake until I heard you come back. It was very late. Where did you go? Whatever it is, I don’t mind. But I must know. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

He looked at her angrily. She thought for a moment that he was going to hit her. He had knocked her around a bit when they were first married, when he had not got on as quickly as he had wanted and he had taken it out on her. More recently, he had controlled his temper and there had been less to be angry about.

“Don’t!” she said quietly. “Don’t forget the guests will be here soon.”

She was more concerned about his own position than for what he might do to her. He breathed deeply and leaned back in his chair.

“You shouldn’t spy on me,” he said.

“I wasn’t,” she said. “I was worried.”

“I didn’t kill her,” he said. “There was no need.”

“That’s all right then,” she said, like a mother forgiving the misdemeanour of a naughty boy even though she does not quite believe him.