The job was based in their swanky new offices on the north side of Glasgow in Cowcaddens, with its modern apartment blocks, bijoux restaurants, and bustling Herald newspaper offices. I took an excited, nervous breath and returned to the investigative reporter job specification.

I read it again.

It sounded like a fantastic opportunity. It was fun covering the school pantomimes and the human-interest angles of the Silver Ness community, but it made my stomach sink to think of this strange new hybrid newspaper they were creating with Drummond. One that I wouldn’t be a part of anyway.

I moved the cursor and hovered over the job description as I mulled it all over. There was a good chance I wouldn’t even reach the interview stage. There were bound to be young, eager graduates keen for an opportunity like this – poor, naïve, young souls who had probably never heard of Athena Mayhew, unaware of what they could be letting themselves in for.

I glanced down at a slumbering Harley and then around myself at my kitchen, with its daffodil-yellow walls, deep-blue wooden cabinets and rustic beams.

I had come across some difficult characters in my time, working for the ad agency. I couldn’t allow Athena Mayhew’s fearsome reputation to intimidate me, especially when I had a mortgage to pay.

And I was a good journalist. I had a moral compass; I was hard-working and conscientious…

Before I knew what I was doing or allowed myself any more time to debate it – or even talk myself out of it – I was tapping away at my keyboard, composing my application.

Chapter Six

I sat at my desk the following morning, my thoughts shifting from my Goddess job application to Harley’s vanishing act and then on to the seemingly abandoned house, Merry Wood.

That cranky lady who had appeared out of the trees… why was she there? She had been so guarded. She must know more than she had been prepared to say.

I glanced over the cork partition at Frances, feeling weary after all the events of last night. She was staring at her computer screen and every so often would offer me an awkward smile. I must have told her twenty times that I didn’t blame her for being kept on with Clarity Newspapers while I was being let go, but I don’t think she believed me. It was horrible, this weird, artificial atmosphere.

Doug was carrying the same beleaguered bearing too. He ambled over to our kitchen area to make himself a fresh coffee.

We had to accept this was going to be the way of things for the next few weeks. We were doing our best to carry on as usual, producing the paper so many of our locals relied on, but the inevitability of the closure of The Silver Ness News in its current guise still stung.