I have a question.

What happens to the Brownsea Island squirrels when all the tourists go home at night?

The reason I want to know is because I’ve been to Brownsea Island a few times now. And I have to admit I’ve never seen one of the fabled red squirrels.

It’s one of the things that Brownsea is famous for: the birds, the historic buildings, the slightly incongruous John Lewis hotel, and the squirrels.

Red squirrels, of course. Don’t forget the red.

That’s important, because there aren’t that many places in the UK where you can see red squirrels these days.

So when I’ve visited Brownsea, I’ve always had a good old look in the woods. The western side of the island is largely covered in pine forest. But as far as I can tell, there’s no sign of the squirrels.

So the question is: if there were a squirrel posted as a lookout on the quay on the eastern side of the island, does that squirrel give the alarm when the first boat of the morning arrives at Brownsea? Hollering a warning to another squirrel a bit further back?

I’ve got a mental image of a line of squirrels posted across the island. Just close enough to see each other, but far enough apart that they can cover the length and breadth of the island with the minimum number of squirrels. Maybe there’s some kind of secret signal: “The boat’s here. Hide, everybody.”

Because surely it’s not some kind of con. There are plenty of photographs of red squirrels on Brownsea Island, so they must exist.

Or maybe it’s just me. After all, I’m the person who drove all the way to Rosemarkie, north of Inverness, which is supposed to be the best place in Europe for spotting dolphins.

And of course, I didn’t spot any dolphins.

Maybe I’m cursed. Or maybe the red squirrels have got a system. Maybe they have their line of messengers roped across the island, shouting an alarm first thing in the morning. And then, when the last boat of the day goes, they repeat the whole thing again.

“It’s safe now, folks. You can come out.”

I’ve got visions of the island overrun with red squirrels once the tourists have left. Squirrels darting down out of the trees, running across the forest floor, flinging themselves across the Baden Powell campground.

Okay, maybe I’m getting a bit over-imaginative there. But it’s a nice thought.

Now, you can stay overnight on Brownsea Island. The people who work there for the National Trust do, of course. There’s a small community that lives as well as works there, in addition to the slightly number of National Trust staff and volunteers who commute back and forth every day. And as well as that, there are the people who work for John Lewis who are lucky enough to get to stay in the castle.

Or in reality, the John Lewis hotel.

I feature these two communities in the island murders. I was fascinated by the idea of living on an island where your neighbours are also your colleagues. You can never get away from your boss.

You’ll always be on, in work terms.

What would that feel like?

And how much more intense would that get if one of your colleagues was murdered? (I might add nobody’s murdered by a squirrel in my book. That would be silly.)

But a line of squirrels sending messages across the island just so the tourists don’t get to see them? Now that’s not silly at all.

Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s in the book.

Probably it’s not, but you’ll have to read the book to find out…