“James couldn’t let her take the blame,” George said. “I’m sure that she would have gone through with it if he’d let her. She’d worked out her story to the last detail. She told me that she was an actress once, when she was young, before she came to Baltasay. Perhaps that’s why her story was so plausible.”

“But why did she want to protect him?” Sarah asked. “After all he’d done. He’d been unfaithful to her.”

“She felt responsible. She told me that she’d never been able to do anything for James. It was her opportunity to repay him. She was proud to do it.”

“Did she go out to the hall that night, as she said?”

“Yes, but only to watch you walk up from Unsta. She never saw Mary.” He chose his words carefully. “Most of what she said was true. She was jealous of Agnes, desperate for a child, a little mad. She did write the note and pin it to your dress. If they’d lived somewhere different, it might have been easier. James had so much to live up to here. People expected too much from him.”

It was an accusation. They sat in silence, considering what he had said. The fire had burned down and Sandy got up to put on more coal.

“We can’t change too quickly here,” he said. “ We’ve too much to lose.”

“But it’s not a museum,” Sarah said, taking Jim’s hand. The words had never seemed more relevant.

“James wouldn’t have had it any different here,” Sandy said, stubborn, his face red in the flames. “ He believed in it, too.

“But it killed your daughter.”

“No,” Sandy said fiercely, getting to his feet. “ James killed my daughter, James, my brother. Not Melissa or the church. He knew that he’d done an evil thing and he did what he could to put it right. He had to pay.”

He walked from the room. Agnes pulled the knitting needle from the belt round her waist, laid the knitting on her lap.

“He’s upset,” she said. “It was his brother. They were too close for him to be generous. You’re young. Kinness will be yours and you’ll live here in whichever way you choose.”

She got to her feet, like an old lady, carefully folded her knitting, and put it in a bag, then followed her husband.

Sarah and Jim turned to George for advice, for support in their desire for change, but he deserted them, too. He let himself out of the house and they were left in the stuffy, brightly lit room. As he walked through the yard he watched Sarah draw the curtains and throw open a window.

George left the next day with the Drysdales and Will Stennet. The cloud had gone and the sun was shining. It was mild, like a spring day.