‘One half-sister, Annick. My mother was married before she met my father. Annick’s about to turn forty. We’ve been summoned to France next week to help her forget it. A three-day family gathering in a villa near Bordeaux.’

‘And did you always want to work in hospitality?’ Her questions sounded so formal, she realised. As if she was interviewing him.

‘I always wanted to travel. It’s a good career for that.’

She asked more questions. He briefly described his career path, from studying in London to hotel management work in Europe and New York. Before she could ask more, he changed the subject.

‘And you, Eliza? What’s next? Apart from setting up a service to tame difficult guests.’

She knew Olivia had told him about her previous job. She told him the truth. She had no idea yet.

‘If you could do anything, though?’

An image appeared in her mind. Paints. Paper. Children. ‘I think I’d like to be an art teacher.’

‘You’re an artist?’

No, she told him. But she loved how it felt when she painted. She’d had a great art teacher at school. It would mean going back to university but perhaps she would, one day. She was surprised to hear herself saying all of this. She’d never put it into words before.

‘Have you ever wanted a different career?’ she asked.

‘Don’t tell Olivia, but I’m already doing it.’

‘You’re moonlighting?’

‘Only in my spare time, I promise. It’s a hobby more than a second career. Photography.’

He did some portraits, he told her, but mostly landscapes. The more remote, the better, at different times of the day, in different types of weather. It was one of the reasons he’d taken the job at the Montgomery – its proximity to the wild landscapes of the Highlands. He’d taken hundreds of photographs in the past three years, he said.

‘I have an exhibition in Edinburgh in the summer. During the Festival.’

‘You do?’

‘Please don’t be impressed. I’m not the only one. There are dozens on at Festival time.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll still be here. Could I see your photos anywhere else?’

‘I have a website.’

‘You do? I’m sorry to keep sounding so surprised. I assumed —’

‘I work in the hotel six days a week? Hang upside down like a bat in the cloakroom on the seventh?’

The mental image made her laugh. ‘Yes.’

‘No. I spend my days off sheltering from the rain in the Highlands, trying not to ruin my camera.’

‘What’s your website called?’

He told her. She took out her phone and scrolled through the photo gallery. He’d captured the wild Scottish landscape in image after image of mountains and lakes, tumbling streams and stormy skies. There were striking shots taken in summer too, vividly coloured wildflowers and heather appearing to glow against moss-green backdrops.