But there was something about living in Kirrinfief that had changed all that, she could tell. Something about being perfectly content with your own company—you had to be in a region the size of London but with eight thousand people living in it instead of eight million. If you wanted company you could simply wander into the village and someone you knew would come along immediately; you could head down to the fair or the pub and find yourself caught up in whatever came along. If there was anything to do—a fiddle band playing, a community play, Nina running a book reading—everybody went automatically. And if there wasn’t, you stayed in and suited yourself. In the middle of nowhere, she found, she didn’t feel lonely at all. She was so far removed from everything she couldn’t possibly be worried about missing anything. And what was she missing anyway?

Nonetheless, she thought, stretching luxuriously, the sun making panes on the duvet. She would putter into town, buy something nice, and actually cook for herself; pick up some of the Lennox farm eggs, which were fine, fine things indeed; buy a book from Nina and sit in the sun; maybe see what Zoe was up to. Zoe always seemed happy to have her around, even if there was never a moment when Zoe didn’t have about five people climbing all over her. She didn’t seem to mind a bit. Lissa occasionally wondered if she didn’t actually bother counting up however many people were in her kitchen at any one time. Then tonight she’d open a bottle of wine and call Kim-Ange and see how her date had gone and they could laugh about hers being a bit of a disaster, which would help, and maybe—maybe—she would tell her about her and Cormac. But tell her what, truly? That they emailed and texted a lot? Kim-Ange had met plenty of men who were happy to chat online, but when it came to meeting, everything changed.

She walked across the quiet kitchen, which she had grown to love in its understated way, and boiled the kettle and was briefly startled by the rattle of the postman at the letter box. Little arrived for Cormac except bills and circulars. She needed to send him his statements, actually. She smiled to herself. The post office was open until lunchtime, so she would go and do that. She liked the women who worked there, and they also sold incredible cheese and local bacon on the side (nobody in the Highlands had only one job really), so that would give her a little purpose to her morning, which would somehow allow her to spend the entire afternoon lazing around, having completed her errand. And maybe, she thought. Maybe talking to Cormac.