“Nonsense,” said Jonathan. “Whooper swan must be a ringing tick. You’ll never have the opportunity again.”

It was true and he was beginning to feel that he should be there with them out on the hill and that in their present excitable state they needed protecting from their own folly.

Will and Sarah arrived soon after they had finished eating. Sylvia greeted them effusively. Jonathan drew them immediately into plans for the evening. Will was wearing a long army-surplus overcoat, very similar to one George’s son had possessed at a similar age. The reminder of his family made George feel isolated, like a traveller in a foreign land who has just received a letter from home. He no longer wanted to involve Sarah in his investigation and he answered her whispered inquiry about his trip to Baltasay politely but noncommittally. Throughout the evening Will maintained a cool adolescent aloofness, as if the adults’ antics were beyond his comprehension and he participated only through boredom. Sarah, however, seemed to catch the Drysdales’ mood and became as lively and frivolous as they were.

They went outside into the rain and climbed into Jonathan’s Old Land Rover. George sat next to Jonathan and heard Sarah and Sylvia laughing in the back. It seemed to him that Jonathan drove recklessly, but the others seemed to enjoy the speed. The conditions, George had to admit, were perfect. There was no wind, and as they drove past Kell the cloud was so low that they could hardly see the lighted square of the kitchen window. Then the road turned into a track and the laughter in the back was louder as the Land Rover bounced and jolted over ruts and boulders.

“Have you ever done any dazzling?” Jonathan shouted above the noise of the engine and the women’s screams.

“Only waders.”

“It’s the same principle. If you shine a very bright light at a bird, it seems to daze it. Then someone gets behind the swan and catches it. It won’t be easy, but sometimes they actually walk towards the light. They seem stunned by it.”