‘David, huh?’ I say, trying to smile.

‘This just doesn’t feel like home any more. Finding Lorne, it’s the final straw. I think I’ve just been hiding out here because I’m too afraid to restart my life, you know?’

And I do. I know exactly. ‘When are you going?’

‘There was a cancellation on the first flight to Glasgow tomorrow, so we’re going to stay over in Stornoway tonight.’

‘Tonight?’

‘The weather forecast isn’t good.’ She looks out the windscreen. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, because you’re pretty much the only reason I don’t want to go.’

‘I’m going to miss you.’ I reach across the space between us to give her a hug. She hugs me fiercely back, and when she lets go, her eyes are watery, her nose red.

‘There’s … There’s something else.’ She looks out the window again.

I see her swallow, and it revives my earlier unease, my long suspicions about what she’s been holding back from me. That closed expression she always wears when I ask about her parents.

‘We’re friends.’ She glances at me. ‘We are friends. But, um … a few days after you arrived, I was speaking to my dad on the phone and I mentioned who you were, you know the whole Andrew MacNeil thing – and he got really pissed off. Wouldn’t tell me why. But he asked me …’ She blows out a breath. ‘He asked me to keep tabs on you, tell him what you were, you know, doing, writing, whatever.’ She turns in her seat to face me. ‘I promise that first night when you arrived, I didn’t know. That Robert had even existed. That he lived in the blackhouse before my parents bought it. I didn’t know about any of it until Dad told me. I don’t know anything about what happened back then either, he and Mum have never talked about it. And I mean, it’s not like there’s been anything to tell him, not really. But I shouldn’t have done it. I should have told him no.’

I look out the windscreen. Think suddenly of that face behind the wheel of the silver Lexus as it hit me. That mouth a perfect round O of shock. More a feeling than a memory. Like the returned and restless panic that all is suddenly changing, ending, and I’m powerless to stop it. That it’s already far too late for me to even try to catch up.

‘Don’t be mad at me, Maggie. I couldn’t bear it.’

‘I’m not mad at you.’ I smile, briefly squeeze her wrist. ‘I promise.’

She smiles back, but her hands curl into fists. ‘There’s something else else.’ She pauses, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know why I lied about it, why I didn’t tell you.’ She glances down at my bag and frowns. ‘My parents. They’re in that photo.’

*

The sky grows ominously dark as I trudge down the road away from Blairmore. Inside the shadow of Ben Wyvis, the rain begins in earnest, icy and determined, heavy enough to soak through my mac in minutes. The wind howls around inside my hood as I battle to keep hold of it while trying to take heed of the frantic waves of bog cotton warning me not to veer off the road. I should have let Kelly drive me back to Ardcraig, but Will might be at the farm, and I need this buffer, this time to process both the photo and Kelly’s confession. And that she’s going to leave. Tonight.