The temptation to leave was strong. But I will not be frightened away, Marnie told herself. This time I will not run away and I will do what I have set out to do. She thought of the person who had caused her to come to Scotland in the first place. You helped me once, more than you could ever know, whispered Marnie. Long ago, when we were both outcasts, and I have never forgotten it. Help me again now and I will not let you down. This place is just a stepping-stone. I will stay in Scotland until I have found what I am looking for.

Chapter Four

By seven o’clock all the would-be writers had arrived, been shown to their rooms and taken on a quick conducted tour of the premises; at eight thirty everybody was assembled in the smaller of the two conference rooms that opened off the enchanting little theatre for which Glendrochatt was justly famous. The theatre had originally been built so that Giles’s actress mother could exercise her histrionic talents on the neighbourhood, but he and Isobel had resurrected and transformed it a few years ago, commissioning a delightful and witty backdrop for the stage from the designer and muralist Daniel Hoffman, and turning the farm buildings of the original old steading into smaller rooms for workshops and exhibitions, plus residential accommodation for participants in the various courses which took place from early May to the end of October. Giles, who had a flair for talent-spotting, was justifiably proud of having discovered Daniel Hoffman’s work before he was well known and his prices had become correspondingly prohibitive. He liked to think the little theatre at Glendrochatt had been an important stepping-stone in Daniel’s booming international career.

Catherine had opted to eat by herself for this first meal and not meet her prospective pupils till later, but supper for everyone else had taken place in the dining room of the main house.

Isobel, an excellent hostess, always tried to inject the atmosphere of an informal house-party into any gathering to help break down barriers of reserve between the participants. She did not think the present group appeared to be a very homogeneous bunch so far, but as this was often how it seemed to start with she was not unduly worried about it. Giles, at the head of the table, appeared to be having a hard time between the retired teacher – a baby-faced blonde of uncertain age, dressed in a décolleté dress of mauve tweed worn with tangles of scarves and costume jewellery, from whose mouth a positive Niagara of words poured out – and Marnie Donovan, who responded to his efforts to draw her out as though she’d taken a Trappist’s vow of silence. There was something about Marnie that made her instantly noticeable, though certainly not because she gave off encouraging signals for anyone to approach her. Marnie could be really attractive, Isobel decided, if only she would smile occasionally, but as it was she reminded her of an aggressive small dog – a terrier perhaps – who at the slightest hint of unfriendliness from a potential adversary would be ready to spring into action and go straight for the jugular. Unlike the garrulous ex-schoolmistress, she seemed impervious to her host’s easy social charm, and Giles, she thought, looking at her husband with amusement, did not usually meet with such a lack of response from the female sex. She sent him a mocking look down the table and he laughed back at her, quick as always to pick up her unspoken message.