‘Ach, you must do more,’ Rhona said, as they relaxed after dinner, her tall frame folded easily into one of the armchairs. ‘It would be such a pity if you didn’t. And one thing’s for sure – if you waste your time trying to understand the inside workings of an old man’s head, you’ll drive yourself mad. So don’t, is my advice. This place is yours now, Anna, well and truly. Stop acting as if you need permission to be here, because you don’t. Plus, the good weather won’t last forever. We get caught by a lot of summer storms here,’ Rhona told her. ‘So I’d make the most of it while you can if I were you.’

‘All right, all right,’ Anna said, with a laugh. ‘You’ve convinced me. Lunch at the Fishergirl’s Luck will return.’

‘Excellent,’ Rhona said. ‘When?’

Anna grimaced. ‘You’re a hard taskmaster. Later this week, if I can get myself together. Friday, let’s say.’

Her friend lifted her glass in a silent toast. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

The two women smiled at each other and clinked glasses, and Anna thought it would have been a perfect evening if only she hadn’t been quite so tired again. The next time she went into town, she really must remember to get some multivitamins.

The next morning, Anna woke so nauseous that she barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. Afterwards she felt better, and could not work out where an illness would have come from. She wondered briefly if it could have been her own cooking from the night before, but no, surely not – she could cook a risotto perfectly even in her sleep. It was worrying because she could not reopen lunch club if she had any form of stomach flu. She didn’t feel as if she had a fever, but unless she had forty-eight hours free with no sickness, she couldn’t serve food to guests. She began to feel better later in the day, though, which was a relief. Whatever it was seemed to be passing.