‘Well nothing’s gone wrong with this week yet anyway,’ said Marnie, laughing. ‘In fact I’d say everything is going just fine.’ She added gruffly: ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been made to feel so welcome anywhere.’

‘Oh Marnie – thank you. I’m so glad.’ Isobel guessed that this sort of tribute didn’t come easily to her prickly guest and it made it all the nicer. ‘But we haven’t got through the weekend yet, when the twins will be at home. Amy’s taking part in the Saturday concert and can get very histrionic when she’s performing and Edward . . . well, with Edward at home anything can happen, especially when we’re busy and have a house full!’

‘Tell me about them. I gather from Catherine that your daughter’s a talented violinist. Does your son play an instrument too?’

Isobel found herself telling Marnie something about Edward’s difficulties and was surprised to find what a good listener she was.

‘But goodness me . . . this is not what I meant to talk to you about at all,’ she said apologetically, stopping suddenly, mid-sentence. ‘I didn’t mean to burden you with family problems.’

‘It isn’t a burden,’ protested Marnie, touched that Isobel should have confided in her. She would have liked to ask more about Edward, but was afraid of appearing nosy and intrusive like Bunty. ‘I think your son sounds a fascinating character,’ she said, ‘and I shall look forward to meeting both the twins.’

‘Well you’ll certainly do that . . . but let’s get back to thinking about next week. Tell me if there’s anything special you’d like to do – any particular interest you may have?’

‘Well, there is something.’ Marnie hesitated, then: ‘If you wanted to track down a particular old house – possibly a castle – in this part of Scotland, but you didn’t know who it belonged to, what it was called or even exactly where it was, how would you set about finding it?’ she asked.

Isobel considered. ‘That sounds a bit of a tall order. Literally tall if it’s a castle, I suppose, but they’re almost two a penny in some parts of Scotland. Anything with a bit of turret stuck on somewhere can get glorified with the title of castle; some are called towers and some, of course, like this one, are just called house. What have you got to go on?’

‘A couple of old black and white photographs – rather faded and crumpled – and some verbal descriptions from when I was a little girl.’

‘Well, I’ve never tried to do anything like that, but I suppose I’d probably go to one of the big estate agents like Strutt & Parker or Finlayson Hughes in Perth who specialise in selling or letting those sorts of properties. I’d certainly make enquiries with Historic Scotland – the government organisation that deals with old buildings and heritage matters. It’d be a bit of a long shot, but it might be worth looking in back numbers of magazines like Country Life, or The Field. I’d ask around friends in case anyone came up with an idea. Why? Are you researching something?’