‘I thought it was odd for Suffolk.’

‘It’s completely artificial. It was built by the lady of the manor, way back. She’d seen it used at some grand house or other and decided she needed a rocky cliff here at Bawdsey.’

‘How do you know all this stuff, Mr, er, Mac?’

‘Please call me Vic. Mac’s short for my surname, Mackensie, and it reminds me of being back at school.’

‘Vic, then. How do you know about this pull-whatsit?’

‘Pulhamite. I can’t remember, honestly. Someone told me, or maybe I read it somewhere. Mrs Quilter was a wonderful gardener. Have you seen the rest of the gardens?’

‘I don’t think we’re allowed,’ she said.

‘It’s all a bit overgrown now, of course, but there’s a wonderful formal Italian garden, with a pond, and the most enormous walled kitchen garden I’ve ever seen, with a beautiful lemonry. I’ll show you some time, if you like.’

A lemonry? She’d never heard of such a thing. ‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ she said, politely.

The light had almost completely disappeared from the sky, and a sharp breeze whipped off the sea and up the cliff side. She shivered, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders.

He stood. ‘Come on, you’re getting cold. We should get back.’

‘I’m so sorry about your friend,’ she said.

As they retraced their steps an awkward silence fell between them.

‘I’d better get myself down to the ferry,’ she said at last, starting to walk away.

‘Hang on,’ his voice came from behind her. ‘I’m so sorry. Remind me your name.’

‘It’s Kath. Kathleen Motts,’ she said.

‘Thank you for being here, Miss Motts. It’s been a comfort.’

‘Hello? Where is everyone? What’s for supper?’ Kath called, running through to the kitchen.

Ma turned from the sink, a finger to her lips. ‘It’s Mark.’

Kath’s stomach did a flip. Had Nancy been up to her tricks again?

‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s just too awful,’ she whispered. ‘He won’t say much, but Ray Burrows has been in a crash.’

‘A car crash? Is he okay?’

‘The plane he was piloting for some test flight or other just fell into the sea. Mark’s been told no one survived.’

‘Christ.’

‘Don’t swear, sweetheart.’

‘Sorry, Ma, but that’s just too awful. Where’s Mark now?’

‘In his room.’

He didn’t reply to her knock. When she turned the handle and opened the door a crack, he told her to go away. She decided to ignore him.

‘I’m so sorry, Mark,’ she said, sitting on the bed beside him. He shrugged her hand off.

‘Leave me alone, Kath. There’s nothing to be said.’

‘It’s not actually confirmed, is it?’

‘Ma told you?’

‘Yup.’

‘There hasn’t been any official announcement, if that’s what you mean. But we all saw what happened. The plane is completely smashed. And they’ve retrieved six bodies. Five navy, and one of those Bawdsey boffins.’

Her heart seemed to contract. One of those boffins? The coincidence was just too great; it must be Vic’s friend. In her head she ran through the faces of the men he kept company with at mealtimes: Dr Rowe, Mr Watson-Watt, Scott, Johnnie, Frank? There was no point trying to guess. But whatever was a Bawdsey scientist doing on board a seaplane test flight?