But Louisa was unable to say because she wasn’t entirely sure herself. All the same Isobel’s words gave her a jolt – when they’d set out for Edinburgh she’d had every intention of being friendly to Marnie and she couldn’t say herself what demon had prompted her to be so disagreeable. Before they set out for Tillydrum she sought her out.

‘Sorry I was a bit of a cow yesterday,’ she said abruptly. Marnie didn’t pretend to misunderstand, but appreciated the effort it must have cost Louisa to apologise.

‘Thanks,’ she said simply. ‘Forget it. God knows I lash out at whoever’s nearest when I feel at odds with the world. Not for nothing did my younger brothers call me Miss Grump – but then I’ve always been prone to the black dog.’ She raised an eyebrow at Louisa. ‘It doesn’t make it feel any better while it lasts, but at least it’s recognisable – an old enemy – but I guess it’s not usual for you feel like that?’

‘No,’ Louisa pulled a wry face. ‘I’m often pig-headed and occasionally sharp-tongued – so I’m told! I’ve sometimes been very scared – with good cause – but I’ve never been given to the glooms for no reason. I’ve always had faith that everything would turn out all right and felt good about myself. I’ve never felt low and on edge the way I do at the moment. Anyway, I’m really sorry. I’ll try not to be such a killjoy today.’

It’s weird, she thought: it’s almost as if Marnie and I have swapped roles. She’s discovered the knack of being happy and I’ve lost it. She put on a show of being her bright and breezy self and appeared to be the life and soul of the party at lunch.

But Isobel, though grateful and relieved that the tension Giles had complained of the day before was absent, was not deceived by the glitter of false tinsel in which Louisa wrapped herself.