Her love of walking was new, developed since she and Jamie moved to Glenisla two years previously. When she arrived she had been a city slicker from Dundee who hadn’t donned hiking boots since school; now, though, she was hooked – and was even a member of the local hillwalking club. She’d been unsure when Pete had asked her to move with him to Glenisla, but Jamie soon loved living in the country and made friends easily at the village school.

She looked at her watch. Pete would have finished service by now; he must have become embroiled in the bar chatting to the locals. Fiona switched on her iPad and Googled J. M. Barrie. He had been born in nearby Kirriemuir but she knew very little else about him. Thank God for Wikipedia, she thought.

She put down her empty glass on the coaster, which read The Old Chain Pier, and smiled. This was the pub where she’d met Pete some three years before; she had been taken in not only by his looks but by his easy Antipodean manner. She hadn’t had much fun since Iain had died. It had taken her years to get over his death but now at last she felt secure and happy; and Jamie adored Pete, though he didn’t call him Dad.

* * *

Fiona was in bed by the time Pete got in, propped up against a pile of pillows with her iPad on her lap. She pushed her glasses up over her forehead.

‘You’re late. Busy night?’

Pete threw his jacket on the chair and sat on the bed to take off his trainers. ‘Yeah, and loads of bookings over the weekend.’ He leant over to give her a kiss. ‘What’re you looking at?’

‘J. M. Barrie. You know, the Peter Pan author? Jamie was on his school trip today to Kirriemuir today. He enjoyed it but the best thing seemed to be some little girl vomiting all over the bus on the way home!’

Pete smiled as he disappeared into the bathroom.

‘Oh,’ shouted Fiona. ‘Before I forget, there was a phone call a couple of hours ago. Someone called Cress – or was it Lettuce – anyway, a woman with a silly name. She was from The Scotsman, must’ve been that girl who was up a few weeks ago. She told me she couldn’t get through on the hotel phone. She said to let you know the restaurant review’s going in the paper tomorrow.’

Pete came back into the room, toothbrush in hand. ‘Did she say if it was any good?’

Fiona smiled. ‘I obviously tried to probe but got nothing. I’m sure it’ll be a rave review though.’

Pete returned to the bathroom and continued to brush his teeth.