Fielding seemed lost in his thoughts, isolated from the rest of the group, and she tried to think of something to say to distract him, but Marlene beat her to it. She got up and disappeared briefly into the library next door, returning with a pile of the week’s newspapers that Hilaria was keeping there as a record of the Mount’s recent publicity. ‘I have been meaning to congratulate you,’ she said to Fielding. ‘There was a picture of yours that I so admired in here, and I wanted to talk to you about it.’

The photographer seemed pleased but a little apprehensive, as he always did when the film star singled him out for attention. ‘Which one is it?’

‘The river at dusk,’ Marlene said, flicking through the pages. ‘That was you, wasn’t it? With the trams and the 193skyline and the reflection of the lights on the water?’

‘Probably. We have to take so many, especially at this time of year. And with an assignment like this on the horizon, some of the more run-of-the-mill stuff gets forgotten.’

She smiled. ‘Mr Fielding, do not be so modest. You should be proud of such a picture.’ She found what she was looking for and beckoned him over. ‘See? You have composed it very well, but lots of people can do that. It’s the light that brings it to life, those things that we were talking about last night.’ They looked at the photograph together, and Josephine was struck again by Marlene’s kindness as she tried to replace the recent, traumatic images in Fielding’s mind with a different, more innocent picture. ‘Such a lovely interplay of soft lights and shadows and half-tones that you could almost believe it was colour. The sky was a deep blue, yes?’ He nodded. ‘I thought so. The best time to photograph a city. In film, we call it the magic hour, just before everything fades to black. And you?’

‘The same,’ Fielding said, becoming more animated. ‘That’s exactly what it feels like when you get it right – magic.’

‘Well, you most certainly have got it right here. Look at the light trails on the bridge. A fast shutter speed, I suppose?’

‘Of course. As you said, it’s the magic hour, and an hour isn’t long to get what you need.’

‘Indeed.’ Marlene nodded thoughtfully, still looking at the picture. ‘I hope your photographs of me turn out as successfully, Mr Fielding.’

The room fell into silence again, and Josephine was beginning to wonder where the next minor skirmish would erupt when Archie appeared in the doorway. He gave a cursory glance round the room to make sure that everyone he expected to see was there, then sat down at the end of the 194table nearest the fire, refusing Marta’s offer of coffee. ‘As you will all know by now, Richard Hartley was murdered …’

‘What we all want to know, Penrose, is how quickly you can get us off this fucking island.’

Archie glared at Lancaster. ‘I’m afraid no one is leaving this island until the circumstances of Reverend Hartley’s death are more firmly established.’