After an affectionate introduction from Giles, who clearly knew him well, he proceeded to hold his varied audience of hundred and fifty spellbound for an hour, without any assistance from notes, slides or other visual aids. Fascinated silence was interspersed with gales of laughter and when he finished speaking the applause was extremely enthusiastic. In answer to a question as to why he had given up his career in forensic medicine he had scratched his bald head and said he supposed he’d got a bit tired of dead bodies, which made everyone laugh. ‘And of course by then, I’d started to make money from my novels,’ he admitted. ‘That helped the decision along no end, but it wasn’t till after my third book that I dared to rely on my pen as a source of income. My wife and I have five children. She’s a doctor too but I don’t think she’d have been very keen on me giving up my medical career unless I could help her put some bread on our table.’

‘What qualities do you think you need to be a successful writer of fiction?’ someone asked.

‘Luck, timing, perseverance and a sense of enjoyment,’ he said promptly. ‘Don’t go into it to make money – go into it because you can’t help it. You may make money. I’ve been very lucky, but it took a little time. Perhaps, above all, you need to be a bit backward.’ He smiled benignly at his audience. ‘Most of us who write fiction haven’t outgrown the childish ability to live in an imaginary world and have constant companions unseen by anyone else.’

The questions came thick and fast and eventually Giles, who had successfully managed to ignore Bunty’s wildly waving hand, decided to call a halt and carry his popular speaker off for drinks and lunch in the main house. But Bunty, seated in the front row, was having no such brush-off. She got to her feet with surprising agility and called out, ‘I have one more question for Mr Mercer, Giles dear. I don’t think you’ve noticed my signals.’

‘One more question then,’ said Giles resignedly, ‘but I’m afraid it will have to be brief.’

‘I just wanted to know,’ said Bunty ‘why it is that Mr Mercer who seems such a nice man should write such horrid books?’

‘What an excellent question,’ said Jonathan Mercer, beaming kindly at Bunty. ‘I’ve always wanted to know the answer to that myself. If I ever find out, I’ll let the lady know!’ and he followed Giles off the stage to more applause.

‘Game, set and match to Mr Mercer,’ said Christopher to Marnie and Morwenna who were sitting either side of him.