‘Nothing happened. That was it. I woke up feeling awful in a muck sweat.’

‘Ill awful?’

‘No – scared awful. Panicky.’

‘It’s all this rootling about in the past that we’ve been doing,’ said Marnie, hoping to find the right words to comfort Louisa’s obvious disquiet. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to have poked around in the murky waters of childhood traumas and given them such a good old stir, as we’ve been doing, without some of the muck from the bottom coming up to the surface. Morwenna told me she’d been dreaming about her husband for the first time for ages. I’ve been obsessed with thoughts and memories about the Caribbean, but I think it’s probably a good thing. I’ve even dared to try to remember more about Kenneth the pig-man, something I usually try to blank out. We’ve been living in a very intense and rarefied atmosphere lately. Everything’s topsy-turvy, like in those bizarre Chagall postcards that Catherine got us to write about.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Look,’ said Marnie. ‘Of course you’re afraid of Mr Brown dying, but you told me yourself that he must be near the end of his natural life anyway – has probably outlived the span he’d have achieved in the wild already. You said you were dreading it, but you’re going to have to face it soon so perhaps your subconscious is giving you a prod – reminding you it’s bound to happen sometime so you should try to lighten up about it . . . come to terms with it now before it happens?’

‘That’s a thought. Perhaps you’re right.’ Louisa gave herself a little shake. ‘Yes, of course you are. That helps. Thanks, Marnie.’

They decided to head for the beach and walk along the famous West Sands which, Louisa told Marnie, were the birthplace of golf. A stiffish breeze had got up, sending white-horse waves galloping inshore, but the sun came out at the same time and turned the usually grey North Sea to an almost Mediterranean blue, and they walked for what seemed like miles, losing all idea of time. At one point Marnie was beguiled into kicking off her trainers, rolling up her jeans and paddling – but not for long.

‘Jee-sus!’ she wailed. ‘I’ve lost all sensation in my feet. Are they still there?’

‘You’re not in the Caribbean now,’ said Louisa. ‘Let’s run,’ so they tore back across the beach, laughing and shrieking like a couple of teenagers, their hair wild, their cheeks burned by sun and wind, and felt they had earned their ginger and toffee ice creams at Janetta’s before driving back to Glendrochatt.