“Campbeltown, Oban, Mull, Mallaig, Peterhead, Buckie, Fraserburgh. All over the north and west of Scotland, really. However, it’s only from Campbeltown and Mull that we buy for the fresh market. Campbeltown is renowned for landing the best prawns. Clonkers, we call them.”

“Surely you can’t get around to all these places yourself?”

“No way. I use agents now. They call the office in the morning and tell us what the catches are. There are a couple of small boats that come into Mallaig with whom we deal direct, but that’s only because I’ve built up a good relationship with them over the years. We still buy on the stone weight for everything, even though everything goes out of here on metric weight. Fishermen aren’t too keen on change, if you know what I mean.”

•  •  •

The questions and answers went on into the evening as they sat together in a pub in Fort William, drinking beer and eating wholesome plates of homemade steak pie and chips. At seven-fifteen, Pete Jackson, Patrick’s production manager, was dropped off to drive him home.

“We’ll give you a lift to the station,” Patrick said.

“No need to bother,” replied Dan, getting up from the table and picking up his holdall. “I’ll just walk along there. It’s not far, and I need a bit of fresh air.”

Patrick held out a hand. “It’s been good meeting you, Dan.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too, Patrick.” He shook his hand. “Thanks for showing me around the plant. You really have built up a pretty good business here.”

“Yes, I know it.” He gripped his two sticks in one hand and brandished them at Dan. “Let’s just hope I can keep it going.”

Dan smiled at him. “I have no doubt in my mind that you will. Give my regards to Katie, won’t you? Oh, hang on!” He put the holdall on the table, unzipped it, and took out Nina’s exercise book. “I told her that I’d give you my telephone number in London.” He wrote down the number, ripped the page out of the book, and gave it to Patrick.

“Anytime you feel like a chat, give me a call.”

Patrick folded up the piece of paper and put it in the top pocket of his shirt. “I will do. I’d like that very much.”

Dan zipped up the holdall once more and slid it off the table. “Best of luck, Patrick, with everything.”

Patrick nodded slowly. “Thanks. I’ll be needing plenty of that.”

14

As Jackie opened the door of the house, the dogs burst past her, nearly taking her legs from underneath her, and disappeared at speed along the passage into the kitchen. She threw the leads onto the hall table and glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten past nine. She felt a tremor of panic run through her as she hurried after the dogs.