Katie came over and sat down opposite him. “Patrick wants you to take the refrigerated van down to Oban. There was a lorry scheduled to pick up this morning’s catch, but it’s been redirected over to the East Coast.” She dug into the pockets of her Vagabonds and brought out a piece of paper. “That’s the mobile number of Ronnie Macaskill, our buyer in Oban. Give him a call when you arrive there and he’ll arrange a meeting place with you down at the harbour.”

Dan scratched the side of his face and laughed. “Right. So which way is Oban?”

“Pete has written out directions for you and left them on the passenger seat in the van,” Katie replied. “He says that it should take you no more than two hours at this time of the morning. It’s only about sixty miles.”

“And then I head straight back to the factory?”

“Yes, as quickly as you can. There’s a shipment meant to be going out tonight to Mercabarna and there’s a shortfall in the order, so Pete wants you back as soon as possible.”

Dan drained his coffee. “Well, I’d better be going then.” He rinsed out his cup under the tap and placed it on the draining board. “Listen, if you want anything, give me a call on the mobile. I’ll bring Patrick’s car back from the factory, so I could easily pick up Max and Sooty on the way home.”

Katie nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. I’ll let you know. It really depends on what the doctor says.”

“Okay.” He waggled a finger at her. “You just take it easy, do you hear? You’ve got backup now.”

Dan made Oban in exactly two hours. He reckoned that he would be able to do it in less time on the way back to Fort William because it had taken him a good half hour to get used to the van’s hefty gearbox and more than an hour to judge the width of the vehicle on the tight-bending road that wound its way down the eastern side of Loch Linnhe. He telephoned Ronnie Macaskill when he was three miles from Oban, stopping off to make the call at the entrance to the Dunstaffnage Yacht Marina.

The harbour was not difficult to find. As he drove down the hill into Oban, he could see the boats clustered together beyond the buildings that lined the promenade, above them protruding the distinctive red and black funnel of a Caledonian MacBrayne ferry. He followed the mainstream of traffic and found himself quite unexpectedly driving out onto the pier.