‘Careful!’ Finn cried, lunging forward to grab her hand as she took another step into a mist rising from the sea. Her foot slipped on the loose stones, and there was a collective gasp.

‘You were nearly history,’ Finn said, pulling her to safety.

‘Are you OK, love?’ her dad said, stepping forward, and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, and she nodded.

‘Tomorrow, if it’s a clear day,’ Finn carried on, as though she hadn’t almost plummeted to her death, ‘keep a lookout for bottlenose dolphins in the Moray Firth. They’re a magical sight as they play together in the ocean.’ He shone the torch out to sea. ‘There are limestone caves below us. And there’s a great project along the coast at Covesea where they’re examining the archaeology of this area.’

Amelia smiled. There was a lot more to Finn than she’d first realised.

Chapter 13

A Year Ago

Ruth

Ruth pushed her trolley full of towels down the winding path towards Bluebell Cottage, the shriek of its squeaky wheels echoing in the darkness. She’d seen her guests head off on the ghost walk. They wouldn’t be back for a while.

This cottage was the biggest dwelling on the estate, and Ruth always thought the prettiest, charming in a chocolate-box kind of way. Flowers always bloomed so much better near the ruins.

She opened the door with one of her keys. She liked that she had so many jangling on her belt; it made her feel important. She picked up four of the fluffy white towels she’d so lovingly washed earlier.

As she entered the cottage, adrenalin fizzed through her veins. It was naughty. She should have put the towels in the cottages prior to everyone’s arrival. But then if she had, she wouldn’t have a reason to enter now, would she? She wouldn’t be able to get to know her visitors. And she must get to know them.

The front door led straight into the square lounge, and Ruth reached for the light switch with her free hand, flicked the switch, and illuminated the room. She wasn’t interested in downstairs. Her guests rarely left any part of their personalities in the lower rooms.

Upstairs, she padded into the double bedroom, put on the light, and placed two towels neatly at the foot of the floral duvet. The smell of Jackson’s expensive aftershave made her feel a little giddy. He was quite the catch – Caroline was a lucky woman.

She stepped towards the wardrobe. His jeans hung on the door, and she slowly moved her hand over the fabric, before turning to observe the room.

The couple’s cases were open on the floor, Caroline’s clothes folded neatly inside one; Jackson’s spilling from the other onto the carpet. She knelt down. Caroline’s peacock-blue cashmere jumper felt soft under her fingertips; her headscarf smelt freshly washed.