‘Your book is so original, in fact, that when early on Sunday morning, Ewan emailed me a very detailed synopsis of his next work, along with the opening three chapters, I immediately recognised that the work was yours and not his. There was a change to one of the character names, but, apart from that, it was almost verbatim what you had written.’

‘Shit,’ Jo muttered before she immediately apologised. ‘Really?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Graham told her.

‘And when did he send you this?’ she asked, trying to put together all the pieces of the very strange events in the hotel at breakfast.

‘Early. Really early,’ Graham said. ‘But I didn’t see it until later. I contacted him immediately to ask what was going on.’

‘And what did he say?’

She listened as Graham cleared his throat. ‘Well, first of all, he, erm, said that maybe you had stolen the work from him.’

‘The bastard!’ Jo said, immediately embarrassed at her outburst.

‘Quite,’ said Graham. ‘Look, I’ve represented Ewan for a long time. I know his writing style. I’ve been badgering him for weeks for some of his new material, and he fed me a line about a new book, something about a photographer. Even if I hadn’t just read and loved your submission, I’d have known something was off with what Ewan had sent me. It’s a completely different style and, dare I say, the writing is of a higher quality.’

Jo allowed herself a moment of smugness at this comment before her anger returned. ‘The internet is filled with reports that this isn’t the first time he’s done this,’ she said. ‘Did you know something was up before?’

There was a pause. ‘Jo, a lot of people are jealous of success. I always thought that’s all that was happening. People were jealous and stirring the pot. Ewan doesn’t always endear himself to people,’ he said. ‘Besides, there was always just enough of his own style to convince me he was telling me the truth. McCreadie was always there, you know. But I think he got lazy. Or arrogant. Actually, knowing Ewan, I’d say it was arrogance. But he can’t cover this up and I won’t let him.’

Even though it was still raining, Jo decided she wanted to walk home all the same. She needed the fresh air and knew that the walk would do her good.

‘I can drive you home if you want?’ Noah offered, after she and Lorcan had called into The Ivy Inn to fill him in on the phone call, but Jo shook her head.

‘Honestly, Noah. I really would prefer to walk. I’m not made of sugar and I won’t melt in this rain.’

‘I could walk with you,’ Lorcan offered. ‘I’m going at least partially in the same direction.’