Christopher was talking to Morwenna and the Colonel when Marnie joined him. A supply of rolls and croissants, together with an assortment of home-made jams, marmalade and local honey had been left on the counter in the bar; there was a choice of yogurts and cereals, a big bowl of fresh fruit and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice; tea and coffee were on the hot plate.

Morwenna and the Colonel, who’d breakfasted earlier with the departing members of the group, were finishing second cups of coffee and regaling Christopher with an account of Bunty’s parting stroke of literary genius. Inspired by the reels at the party the previous evening, she announced that she’d been smitten by an idea for the plot of a gripping new Highland saga for children’s television, a stirring drama about the adventures of the Dashing White Sergeant as a little boy. According to Morwenna she’d been bubbling so enthusiastically with this brilliant notion that it had been difficult for Isobel to steer her towards the waiting minibus, and Giles, despite frantic faces from his wife, who feared Bunty might make the others miss the train at Perth, had been unable to resist informing her that the origins of that particular reel were not Scottish at all – that the tune had been written by Sir Henry Rowley Bishop, English composer of ‘Home Sweet Home’, and the steps were actually based on a circle dance of Swedish origin.

‘I bet that didn’t stop her,’ said Christopher, much amused.

‘It didn’t even stem the flood,’ said the Colonel, ‘but she’s worryingly torn between the rival merits of The Magic Kilt and A Sprig of White Heather as a title for the series.’

‘Oh, it’ll have to be The Magic Kilt,’ giggled Marnie. ‘Think of the possibilities.’

Morwenna added that Catherine’s face of polite resignation had been a study as Bunty, brushing these pedantic considerations aside, had breathlessly promised to let Catherine be the first to see the script as soon as she’d got more of it down on paper. ‘Lucky for Catherine that at least she had you and Win on the course as well as the rest of us,’ she said to Christopher. ‘Not bad, I suppose – two genuine undiscovered talents out of eight – if you don’t count the dreaded Stanley. I know Catherine has promised to help Win find some outlets for her snappy, evocative little sketches, if she manages to survive reunion with her horrible husband. Are you going to keep in touch with Catherine too, Christopher?’