‘Great, so I’m going to concentrate on details of the train, events on the actual day and so on, and at this stage you can look into Sir Thomas Bouch, the designer?’

‘Deal.’

‘He lived in Edinburgh, so you might have to nip down there.’ Martha looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Only a couple of hours till home time. D’you have to dash back to Jamie or do you fancy a quick drink?’

‘Mum’s giving him an early tea then they’re taking him to the cinema to see that new Disney film. Dad’s more excited about it than Jamie, big child that he is.’

‘Aw, your dad’s great, he’s so, well, different.’

‘I know, he’s a one-off. Still, he kept Jamie up till midnight playing on his ancient Scalextric set, way past bedtime. Think Jamie’s just doing it to amuse the old man, to be honest.’

* * *

‘Another bottle?’ Fiona stood up and lifted the empty bottle from the bucket.

Martha glanced at her watch. ‘Yeah, I’ll text Allie to say I’ll be late home.’

Fiona weaved her way through the tables to the bar and ordered another bottle. ‘I love a sauv blanc, don’t you?’ she said, unscrewing the cap as she returned.

‘Remember it was always gut-rot chardonnay we guzzled at college? Then I kind of got into Pinot Grigio with Pete, but this is delicious.’

‘Gooseberries and elderflower!’ Martha gave an exaggerated sniff over her glass. ‘Cheers!’

‘Cheers.’ Fiona clinked glasses and sat back on the sofa. ‘So, where was I?’

‘Well, he did a runner, stole a car and wiped out all your combined savings. Bloody hell, there can’t be more, Fi?’

‘Oh, just you wait.’ Fiona took a gulp of her wine and sat forward. ‘Then I want to hear all about you and Allie. How’re the parents taking it? Were her mum and dad not really weird about it all when you moved in together?’

Martha nodded. ‘Yeah, more anon. Come on, spill.’

‘So, Doug from Glenisla – remember the nice guy who owns the hotel, short, balding – well, he phoned me one day last week,’ said Fiona, before telling Martha about the Australian woman who had been trying to track Pete down.

‘Bloody hell, that’s not good.’ She frowned. ‘Without wishing to sound like Allie with her psychotherapist hat on, “How does that make you feel?”’

‘You really want to know?’ There was a tremor in her voice. ‘Fucking used, that’s what. Used, abused, on the rubbish heap.’ She took a swig from her glass. ‘After all that time getting over Iain, at last I find my life’s companion and then this. Don’t think I’ll ever trust a man again.’

Martha took her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘There might be some explanation. What could that call have been about, Fi? You think she was his mother?’