The sideways movement of Nina’s head eventually sped up to a definite shake of negativity. “This has to be the arsehole of the world,” she said in a voice that would seem that she had just found herself eternally condemned to the depths of Satan’s empire.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Dan retorted cheerfully, “although it is a real pity that it’s raining today. We’ve just had a month of nothing but sun.”

Nina chucked back her head. “Typical,” she tutted as she bent down and heaved up her canvas bag, its sides cascading off rivulets of icy rain.

Dan swept up Millie’s suitcase and relieved Nina of her load. “Come on, we’ll get you back to the cottage. It’s really cosy there. You’ll be warm again in no time.” He had taken no more than a dozen steps towards the exit of the station before the cases were once more dropped to the ground, and he stood exercising his cramped and aching fingers.

“What the hell have you brought with you? Bags of cement?”

“I wish,” Millie replied morosely, tucking her hands under her armpits to keep them warm. “Mum made us bring all our schoolbooks with us. Some half term this is going to turn out to be.”

They drove back to the cottage alongside the murky waters of Loch Eil, and once again Dan wished that the Indian summer could have held out for just a week longer. The air of despondency inside the fuggy interior of Patrick’s Mercedes was almost tangible, and Dan could tell that the false gaiety in his voice as he pointed out mist-shrouded landmarks was getting very close to manic level. The car, in fact, had been the only thing to date that had brought any kind of verbal comment from Nina.

“We had a car like this once, but it had leather seats and was much newer.”

It got worse. As Dan pulled into the lane that led up to the cottage, Nina, who had been sitting alone in the back of the car and had been trying to stave off the slavering attention of the dogs all the way from Fort William, suddenly burst into floods of tears. Dan glanced in the rearview mirror at the collapsed face of his younger daughter. “Ni, what is it?” he asked concernedly.

“I want to go home,” she choked out in long, stuttering sobs. “This is the worst place I’ve ever been to in my life.”

“Well, you can’t go home,” Millie retorted with feeling. “We’ve been banished, remember.”

“That’s enough, Millie,” Dan said quietly out of the side of his mouth.

“But I had two parties to go to, and Barnie was going to be at one of them.”