‘I can’t imagine writing multiple books,’ Jo confessed. ‘I mean I have ideas, but this story has been my focus for so long, I haven’t really thought beyond it. I can’t quite imagine another story consuming me in the same way.’

‘Believe me, it will. Another idea will come to you with another cast of characters and another remarkable setting, perhaps when you least expect it. Why don’t we go and grab a plate full of bacon and eggs and we can talk more about it?’ he said.

‘Then we can go on an exhilarating walk on the coast at Malin Head and I can show you where they filmed those scenes from Star Wars,’ Jo replied, surprised by how comfortable she felt in his company again after the awkwardness of the previous afternoon.

‘That sounds like a solid plan,’ Ewan said.

‘But coffee first, so much coffee,’ Jo smiled.

26

The Last Jedi

The landscape at Malin Head was as beautiful as it was stark. There was something incredibly grounding about looking out across an expanse of endless ocean. The rocky shoreline jutted into the squalling mass of grey and foam, as if fighting it off and pulling it back time and time again.

‘It’s breathtaking,’ Ewan said, as he stood and took in the vista. ‘Bleak, but breathtaking.’

‘If it’s good enough for Luke Skywalker,’ Jo replied, as she stepped from foot to foot and wished she had brought her comfy cardigan after all. Her Converse were damp from walking through the wet grass. She should’ve known to wear better shoes. Or at least, waterproof shoes. She’d probably end up with trench foot or something. Or have mushrooms grow between her toes. But what she absolutely wasn’t going to do, she decided, was complain to Ewan about it. He seemed so entranced by the sight around him, she didn’t want to do anything to take away from that moment. He was taking in everything, as if he could actually see the Millennium Falcon on the clifftops instead of just looking in the vague direction of where the filmmakers had built, and subsequently dismantled, a replica for the movie shoot.

‘I’m going to take a few pictures,’ he said and put his rucksack down on the ground.

Jo watched as he fished through his belongings and brought out a proper, old-school camera. The day before, he had just snapped pictures on his phone, but she observed him now as he stood and turned dials and changed lenses before snapping what lay before him from different angles.

‘Amateur photographer too?’ Jo asked.

‘Very amateur,’ he said with a smile. ‘But it’s a good hobby. My father loved to take photographs of everything. I think I was the most photographed baby in Scotland once upon a time. It was different then, of course. Photos weren’t taken just for the hell of it. There was no delete button.’