‘These are good,’ I said, pausing in front of one that depicted a stag standing proud in the middle of an iced loch.

He picked it up, smiling at he looked at it. ‘Of course they are. I did them.’

‘Really?’ I said looking at him in surprise. ‘Is it what you do for a living?’

He placed the sculpture back down again with a thud. ‘No, just a hobby,’ he replied tightly. ‘I work for the family business.’

‘And that is?’ I asked as we continued climbing the stairs.

‘Building homes like this,’ he said, gesturing around him.

I wanted to ask him if he enjoyed it, or if he’d rather be creating wooden sculptures for a job. The latter, I guessed from the look on his face, but I didn’t get the chance as just then a young woman walked out of one of the rooms. She was delicately boned but tall like Dylan, dark-haired too. She was wearing all black: black leggings, a long, mohair black jumper. I couldn’t figure out how old she was. She held herself like a teenager, maybe seventeen or eighteen, but there was a look in her eyes that suggested she might be older.

She stopped abruptly when she saw me, tilting her head in confusion.

‘This is my little sister Heather,’ he said. ‘Heather, meet Gwyneth. She nearly died trespassing our land so I thought I’d extend her the courtesy of a warm bath and dry clothes.’

‘Did you shoot her like the last person who trespassed?’ Heather asked, eyes narrowing as she looked me all over.

‘Not this time,’ Dylan replied with a sigh.

I didn’t know whether to take them seriously. But then they both laughed.

‘Only kidding.’ Heather stepped towards me, putting out her hand. ‘Welcome to the madhouse, Gwyneth.’

I shook her hand. It felt very small and very cold, a surprise considering how warm it was in the house.

‘Gwyneth makes wildlife documentaries,’ Dylan said. ‘You should see her camera.’

Heather smiled in excitement. ‘Wow, really?’

‘Yes, that was why I was on the lake.’ I was in a rush to explain. ‘I wanted to film a bird, a rare one.’

‘That’s ace, Mum and Dad would love the loch to be in a documentary.’

‘Heather wants to make films,’ Dylan said, smiling affectionately at his sister. ‘She’s doing film studies at Leeds University.’

‘That’s cool,’ I said.

She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, I want to direct them. Do you know anything about directing?’

‘A little.’

‘Excellent, we can talk about it over dinner,’ Heather declared as she went to skip down the stairs.

‘Oh, I’m not staying for dinner,’ I called out after her. ‘I’m just going to get out of these clothes then be on my way.’