I went to get up but she raised her hand to stop me. Then she gestured towards the candles that flickered on the sill of a small window above. ‘Each Christmas, we place candles in our windows to let strangers know they are welcome. You are welcome,’ she said, gesturing for me to sit back down. I did so hesitantly. ‘Just don’t trespass again,’ she added with a wink. The tension in the room suddenly dispersed. She turned to her family. ‘Shall we eat?’

Over the next two hours, we ate dinner, drank wine too, lots of it, served by a middle-aged woman with white hair who I presume was their housemaid.

I learnt Oscar had worked his way up from being a builder and woodsman to run a multi-million-pound building company that supplied many business and private owners with wood-clad buildings like this. His oldest son, Cole, was the managing director, Oscar taking a back seat for a reason nobody made clear. But I guessed from the fact he didn’t drink more than a glass of wine and resisted second helpings that it might have something to do with his health, despite how fit he looked.

Glenn, the youngest brother, wrote and illustrated children’s books that could be found in bookstores around the country, and Dylan’s older sister Alison, after ‘the most God-awful divorce’, as she described it to me, was trying to figure out her place in life, travelling and taking photos for a book she was planning. Cole’s wife Rhonda dedicated her time to volunteering and being a mum.

Despite their clear advantages – the apparent wealth and freedom with which they were able to live their lives – they seemed very down to earth. Maybe it was because of Mairi, who clearly kept a tight rein on them, scolding them with a look if any of them said something out of turn.

As they all talked, I watched Dylan at times. He could be playful and charming like his father, but I could see a hint of the serious intent his mother possessed. I thought of what he’d said earlier – ‘You’re beautiful’ – and realised he was simply stating what he thought, as his mother seemed to do. There really was nothing seedy about it.

‘Where’s your next shoot, Gwyneth?’ Oscar asked me.

‘Iceland. There’s a beach there made of ice where seals like to flock. It’s in the southeast on the Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon.’

‘I know it,’ Oscar said with a smile. ‘In fact, the first lodge Dylan ever worked on is based an hour or so away in Kirkjubæjarklaustur.’

Dylan looked up, eyes alight. ‘God, I loved working on that place.’

I smiled at his enthusiasm. Maybe he did enjoy his job?

‘How did you get into making documentaries, Gwyneth?’ Cole asked.

‘I had a mentor, Reginald Carlisle.’

‘That man’s a legend,’ Oscar said. ‘In fact, I have his book upstairs.’