“Is it about Sylvia Drysdale and Alec?”

“How did you know?” The boy felt cheated of the drama of revelation. He was surprised and annoyed.

“As you said, it wasn’t a very well-kept secret. But no one else is prepared to talk about it. Can you tell me, in confidence, what was going on between Sylvia and Alec, and what the island, especially Maggie and Jonathan, thought about it?”

“What does it have to do with you?” Will had recovered his poise, adopted again the pose of cool experience.

“Does it matter? Do you want to protect a murderer?” The words were sharp and Will had no defence against them.

“I’ll tell you,” he said, trying to pretend that the decision to speak was his. “It won’t do any good but I’ll tell you. Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

George looked towards the hall. The people coming and going directed their attention to each other, and the goods for sale, and the turbaned Woollie Man. If anyone saw them, it would be assumed that they were birdwatching.

“No. This will do. When did it all start?”

“I don’t know exactly. Of course I was out at school until July. There was a big picnic the first fine weekend we were home—there always is—and then a dance afterwards. I didn’t notice anything. Sylvia looked lovely, but she always does. The women here say that she shows off, but it’s the way she is. She danced a lot with Alec, but they’re both fine dancers and they enjoy dancing together. She danced with other men, too. Maggie left early to put the boys to bed and later all the family came back to Sandwick for coffee and a dram. Alec wasn’t there at first and we thought he’d gone straight home to Buness. Then he came in. He was very drunk and seemed pleased with himself, boastful. You can never tell how much is true with him, and how much is wishful thinking, but he said that he’d just walked Sylvia Drysdale home. He started telling us what had happened when he saw that Uncle James was in the room and he shut up. Uncle James is the lay preacher.”

“I know,” George said. “What exactly did he say before he saw James?”

“He said that she was a good screw.” He blushed, and became a child again. “It probably never happened. He tells terrible stories.”

George ignored his embarrassment. “What happened next?” he asked.