Now, though, in the face of Detective Scott’s patronising frown and Kelly’s rolling eyes, not to mention Will loitering in silence inside the doorway, I feel mortified.

‘Well then,’ Detective Scott says. ‘I suppose I’ll be off. I’ll send you a case number. If you need it.’ He pauses as he passes Kelly, clears his throat. ‘Kelly.’

‘He was in my year at school,’ Kelly says, when we hear his car engine start up. She gives a theatrical shudder as she pulls another tartan curtain out from a carrier bag. ‘Snogged him at the sixth-year Christmas party.’

‘Does anyone else have keys to the blackhouse?’ I ask.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Kelly says, blinking in surprise. ‘I mean, I’ve got a spare set, and … I guess maybe Mum and Dad, or someone who lived here before. But … you don’t think—’

‘No, no. Of course not. I – I’m just feeling a bit –’ I gesture towards the fireplace. ‘I shouldn’t have phoned the police, I’m sorry. I panicked. Thought maybe you’d need a report … for the insurance or something.’ It’s unconvincing enough that Kelly cocks her head, gives me a long, considering look.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

I nod. Grab hold of the end of the curtain. And then suddenly I remember what she said to me when she first opened the door to the blackhouse. The lock’s a bit iffy, I keep meaning to get it fixed. Perhaps keys wouldn’t have been needed at all. ‘Yes.’ I clear my throat. ‘I’m fine.’

She finally smiles. ‘There’s really no harm done, Maggie. I’m just glad you’re all right.’

‘Maggie …’ Will says from the doorway. ‘I’d better be getting back to the farm.’

I put down the curtain, ignore Kelly’s wink as I go over to the door. Will steps down onto the path, rubs a palm against the back of his neck. Last night, I’d lain awake next to him in his bed, having absolutely no idea what the etiquette of fleeing your house in panic versus one night of wild sex was. I’d woken at dawn, the heat of his body at my back, his arm tight around my waist.

‘Thank you. You know, for … everything.’

‘You’re welcome to stay again tonight,’ he says after a pause, gaze fixed on a point somewhere over my shoulder.

I think of that arm around my waist. His slow breath tickling my hairline. ‘If I run out of sugar?’

‘Aye.’ He relaxes into his smile, and I pretend I don’t feel that familiar thump-thump. ‘If you run out of sugar.’

When I close the door and go back over to the fireplace, Kelly is pretending to be engrossed in threading plastic hooks through the curtain’s lining, but when she looks up at me, her grin is wide enough I can see all of her teeth.

‘Oh my God,’ she laughs, fanning herself. ‘I bet he could set a person’s curtains on fire any time he wanted to.’