‘When we were children my father was a hero to us too,’ said Isobel, smiling at Janet. ‘My sister and I used to vie with each other for his approval. His word was law in our childhood – which seems rather appropriate! It was for their sake rather than my sister’s that I agreed to have Rory to stay at such a busy time for us. My mother adored him and always seemed to be having him to help Lorna out when he was a baby. I must be getting back – leave you to your paperwork and get on with my own. We’ve got one of our courses going on this week – the first of the season, which always makes life hectic until we get back into the swing of it again. One or two people are staying on for a second week, but it’ll be much less busy next week. Perhaps Robbie’d like to come over to us for a day then, if he’s still with you?’

‘I’m sure he’d love it. They’ve got on so well.’

Isobel got out her diary and they fixed a date. She wondered what the older woman, who had known Giles all his life, thought about Rory’s striking likeness to his uncle-by-marriage. Janet MacDonald was not one to spread local gossip, though Isobel was well aware that there were plenty of other people who were. She had no doubt at all that Rory’s paternity must be the talk of the village.

‘Ach well, just be thinking of all your good memories of your father then, Isobel. I’ll go and give the boys a shout.’ Janet went out into the yard and Isobel could hear her calling: ‘Robbie! Rory! Come along in now, boys. Rory’s auntie’s here.’

Isobel was suddenly struck by an idea – a possible explanation for something that had been puzzling her. Of course, she thought. Why didn’t I think of that before?

When the two little boys came running in, Rory flung himself on Isobel, his face glowing. He looked dishevelled, grubby and happy, the knees of his jeans muddy, and the laces of his trainers undone – just how a little boy ought to look, thought Isobel, complicated mixed feelings almost choking her.

‘I don’t need to ask if you’ve had a lovely time!’ she said, touched by his welcome. Rory looked at her with shining eyes. ‘You’ll never, ever guess what’s happened, Aunt Izzy.’

‘Something pretty exciting by the look on your face!’

‘Well . . .’ Rory took a deep breath, the news almost too momentous to be given words. ‘Well . . . guess what’s happened to Robbie’s guinea pig!’

‘You picked it up by its tail and its eyes dropped out?’

‘Course not!’ Rory gave her a horrified look, obviously not familiar with the old nursery joke.

‘Tell me then.’