“You have lived in Myrtle Cottage since that time?”

Rose nodded. There was a silence which she felt expected to fill. “It was left to my husband by his grandmother,” she said. “When I met him, he was an actor in a small community theater group. He did a bit of writing and directing, too. Then he was offered the opportunity of working in London. Things hadn’t been brilliant between us, and I certainly didn’t want to move out of Cornwall, so we separated. Later he fell in love with a young actress, and we divorced. It was all quite friendly. When he went, I had two small children, so I stayed in the house. He’s doing rather well now, and he’s quite happy for me to stay here.”

“Have you seen your husband recently?” Claire asked.

“Not since the children were old enough to travel to London by themselves. He used to come to Porthkennan to collect them for holidays, but they’re both at college in town now, and he sees more of them now than I do.”

There was another pause. Rose remained resolutely quiet.

“You have another child,” the inspector said. “A baby.”

“Yes,” Rose said defiantly. “Matilda. She’s eight months old.”

She waited for the other, more awkward questions, but none came. At last Claire smiled and changed the direction of the conversation. She was enjoying herself. She felt in perfect control of the interview.

“How well did you know Greg Franks?” she asked.

“Not well at all. He stayed here occasionally if he was on his way to the Scillies, or if there was a particularly rare bird in the valley.”

“Did he always come alone?”

“No. I can’t remember him coming on his own before. There was usually a gang of them. Once he came with a girl.”

“What was her name?”

“Victoria,” Rose said. “It seemed rather inappropriate. Anyone less Victorian it would be hard to imagine. I never knew her surname.”

“Tell me what happened on Friday night after you all arrived on the boat,” Claire asked. “In as much detail as you can remember.”

“It’s very hard,” Rose said. “ It all seems rather a muddle, as if it was a long time ago, and I found a lot of the conversations hard to understand. I enjoy watching birds, but I’m not in the same league as Rob or Roger. I don’t suppose I have their passion.”

“Start with the facts,” Claire said. “What did you do when you first came aboard?”

“We stood at the deck rail for a while,” Rose said. “Then we went into the saloon. Freddy had made supper sandwiches and pasties. There was beer. Everyone drank a lot of beer.”

“And they talked about birds?” Claire asked.