‘You should learn. There’s a certain satisfaction to it. Choosing the correct fly, finding the lie, executing the perfect cast. You have to be patient though. Cast and cast again until the fish bites. Then you have him. Or her.’ Fairchild winked. ‘Once the fish is hooked all you have to do is reel the beauty in.’

Silva looked at Fairchild. Wondered if he was the sort of older guy who would make a play for a woman less than half his age. If that was his game he could forget it.

‘Who exactly are you, Mr Fairchild?’ Silva said. ‘More importantly, why has my father asked me here to meet you?’

‘She’s bright, Kenneth,’ Fairchild said, almost as if Silva wasn’t there. He closed the flap on the creel. ‘Very bright.’

‘No comment,’ Silva’s father said. ‘But don’t forget she was a minute late.’

‘It was a two-and-a-half-hour journey. A minute is less than one per cent. Such a small margin of error. We can overlook that, I’m sure.’

‘Who are “we”?’ Silva said.

‘Something has come up.’ Her father hunched forward and tapped his nose. Lowered his voice again. ‘Regarding your mother.’

‘Mum?’ Silva turned to Fairchild and back to her father. ‘Is this to do with the probate?’

‘Not exactly,’ Fairchild said. ‘I have a proposal for you, Rebecca.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ her father said. ‘This is work.’

‘If it’s a job offer, you can forget it. I’ve got a job.’

‘Not a real job. You’re a postman, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m not a postman, actually.’ Silva’s patience was wearing thin. Visiting had been a bad idea. ‘Although you’d probably be quite happy if I was. You’d have an heir then, wouldn’t you? A proper heir. A male heir.’

‘Should I leave you two for a while?’ Fairchild shifted in his seat. He bent to pick up the fishing rod. ‘You sound as if you need a few minutes to discuss things. Family matters. I quite understand, after all it’s been a distressing time for both of you.’

‘Nonsense.’ Silva’s father dismissed Fairchild’s suggestion. ‘Take her out on the boat, Matthew. Drop the mud weight overboard and don’t come back until it’s sorted.’

‘Rebecca?’ Fairchild shrugged. ‘Shall we try that? Just so you can hear me out?’

Silva looked from Fairchild to her father and back again. Sighed.

‘Whatever,’ she said.