‘But he wouldn’t have done. Not if he knew.’ He cut the engine and the car shuddered to a halt as he faced her at last, his eyes burning with an honesty that hadn’t been allowed since she’d arrived.

‘Knew what?’ She stared at him, her eyes growing wide as she understood his meaning. ‘You mean if he knew that you kissed me?’ Was it really so terrible? Was she that shameful?

‘He wouldn’t have you here if he knew what it risked,’ he said in a low voice.

‘What is it risking?’ she asked, incredulous and baffled.

He looked away. The train was pulling into the station, people walking through to the platforms. There was a loud hiss of steam as the brakes were applied.

‘What is being risked?’ she demanded, louder now. Her emotions were threatening to overflow, uncontainable. Messy. ‘You won’t talk to me. You won’t even look at me!’

As if dared, he turned back again, meeting her eyes and holding them with his own. And for a second, she thought she could catch it again, the spark that had leapt between them on Hirta. But it was a leprechaun of a feeling, darting and mischievous, impossible to catch.

‘What have I done to make you hate me?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t hate you.’

‘But you don’t like me anymore.’ It was a simple enough statement. A quiet truth. ‘Not even as a friend.’

His head inclined away slightly and she saw him swallow, but for several moments he said nothing at all. ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea you being here, not for either one of us,’ he said finally. ‘You need a completely fresh start. You need to build a new life, away from . . . here.’ He swallowed again. ‘My father should never have asked you to come.’

Her mouth fell open, a first twinge of apprehension beginning to rush through her blood at his words, the recurrence of this thought: you shouldn’t have come. ‘So what are you saying? That we should go?’

He looked directly at her. ‘I think it would be for the best, yes.’