Charles went off to collect his shotgun, his pyjamas and a few other things, while I remained at home with the doors firmly locked. Rosie lay on her bed by the Aga and snoozed. That was a very good sign. She had always been able to hear visitors arriving long before I could, either welcome or unwelcome, and she would bark in excitement that they might provide her with a treat.

Even though it wasn’t yet dark outside, I went round the house turning on lights to make the place look more occupied than it really was.

Charles soon returned, and he’d brought some ten-year-old Laphroaig with him, along with his other stuff.

‘If we need a drink,’ he said, giving the bottle to me, ‘and I do. We might as well have the best.’

‘Not too much, mind. I wouldn’t want to be sleeping it off if our friends come back.’

‘I also bought a whole box of cartridges,’ he said, putting the shotgun down on the kitchen table.

‘Let’s just hope we don’t need any of them.’

I collected two glasses from the cupboard in the dining room and splashed three-quarters of an inch of Laphroaig into each.

‘Cheers,’ I said, taking a small sip from one.

‘A willing foe and sea room,’ Charles replied, lifting the glass to his lips.

‘Eh?’

‘Friday’s toast. In the Navy. Sorry. Force of habit.’

‘Don’t apologise. I’m all for a willing foe if it means he leaves us alone.’

‘I’ll definitely drink to that.’ Charles took another sip. ‘Do you have any food? I’m quite hungry. Mrs Cross would have normally left my supper out and I could have collected it just now, but she’s still away on grandmother duty.’

He made it sound like a huge inconvenience, which it may well have been. Being a naval officer probably meant you didn’t need to cook your own food very often, so he’d probably never learned how to.

I went and looked in the fridge. It was even more empty than last time.

‘I could do you an omelette,’ I said. ‘With some chips and peas.’

‘Sounds great.’

I put some frozen oven chips in the Aga, peas in the microwave and cracked my last five eggs into a bowl. And, I thought, what joy to have two hands to do it with.

I also found some cheese in the fridge door, so we were soon sitting down to a feast of cheese omelettes with all the trimmings, washed down with one of the Isle of Islay’s best single malts, followed by two scoops of chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream, Saskia’s favourite.

What decadence.

‘Have you spoken to Marina?’ Charles asked, finally laying down his ice cream spoon.

‘Not today,’ I replied. ‘But I did speak to Sassy this morning.’

‘How is she?’

‘She said that she was bored and wanted to come home.’

‘That’s a good sign.’