‘My father has two problems with me. First, as you may have noticed, I’m a girl. Second, when I do what he would have wanted a son to do, I fuck up. Not only that, but the whole thing becomes public. I’m court-martialled and he’s so embarrassed that in the end he takes early retirement from the Ministry.’

‘I’m sure he’s proud of your achievements. You’ve got an Olympic medal for shooting and were a world-class sniper, after all.’

‘Class is easily lost. I should know.’

They reached the boat and Fairchild gestured for Silva to climb in. ‘You might not fish, but do you row?’ he said.

‘Sure.’ Silva clambered into the boat and sat. Fairchild took the aft seat. He pushed off from the jetty and Silva used one oar to turn them around. Once they were facing out into the lake, she dipped both oars and pulled.

The boat glided across the water and Silva pulled again. She was facing to the rear so she could see her father sitting at the table. Mrs Collins had come from the house with a newspaper and a pen. Her father was intent on doing The Times crossword.

‘He loves you, of course,’ Fairchild said. ‘You do know that?’

‘It’s every parent’s duty to love their offspring and my father would never fail to carry out his duty.’

‘I’m sure it’s more than duty.’

‘I’m not. He loves me because it’s in the rule book. Page one hundred and fifty, subsection six, paragraph two.’

Silva took several more strokes and then shipped the oars. The lake was only small and they were already nearing the centre.

‘Forget about the mud weight, we’ll just drift,’ Fairchild said. ‘See where we end up.’

‘You like metaphors, don’t you, Mr Fairchild?’

‘I like intelligence. And, yes, wordplay. What about you?’

‘I don’t like waffle, so if you don’t mind, could you please get to the point?’

‘The point. Yes.’ Fairchild looked across the lake to where a coot busied itself with a strand of green pondweed. ‘She’s after the snails.’

‘Hello?’ Silva waved an arm at Fairchild. ‘I didn’t think I was out here to learn about waterfowl.’

‘No, of course not.’ Fairchild turned back to Silva. The chit-chat was over and his face wore a serious expression. ‘I was shocked when I heard about your mother’s death. Very shocked. It was an appalling crime.’

‘I’m done with condolences, Mr Fairchild. Sincere or not they don’t help. I’m trying to forget what happened and concentrate on remembering my mother as she was.’

‘Of course, that’s understandable, even commendable. However, what if I told you the circumstances surrounding the attack in Tunisia aren’t quite as simple as they first appeared?’