Fiona sat at the kitchen table and pressed the palms of her hands to her temples. Her head was thudding. Very slowly, she turned to look out at the Green where Jamie was kicking the football around with Jack. He had settled in so well to life in Dundee. He did not say much about missing Pete, but she knew he did. Pete had been a combination of a cool uncle and an older brother, they had had so much fun together. She only wished she didn’t feel such a huge loss whenever she thought about him; she was beginning to wonder if she had loved him more than her husband. Even though part of her hated him for the deceit, she still wanted him back. She tried to imagine what she’d say if he suddenly strolled in the door, grinning that cheeky smile. She thought of him taking her in his strong arms and kissing her. But then she remembered the deception, the fact he had removed all their savings, and the mysterious situation with his car.

She took a slug from her can of Diet Coke then turned back to her laptop and Googled The Scotsman. She picked up her phone.

‘Yes, hi, is it possible to speak to Cressida Scott?’

‘Oh, okay, yes, I’ll leave a message on her voicemail, thanks.’

She cleared her voice then explained who she was and said that she was keen to meet up, leaving her phone number.

No way she’ll phone back, she thought, looking back down at her to-do list.

Her head was aching, and it was another hour until she could take more paracetamol. Why did she drink so much last night? Martha had stopped knocking it back and was downing the water when Fiona had insisted they have one for the road. Why had she ordered a final large glass after they’d already guzzled two bottles? She hoped Martha was okay to drive to Perth.

Back to Google. Swansea, Tasmania was first settled in 1821 by a gentleman from South Wales and his family. He farmed the land around… arable, grazing crops… Established a tannery… A whaling station was built nearby and Swansea became the main port in Australia to export whale oil.

Why did that sound familiar? Of course, Dundee had links with whaling. She continued to scan. The final line read, Population of 553.

That’s not many, Fiona thought. Surely everyone must know everyone there? Could she find someone else called Gibson?

The door swept open. ‘Morning, party girl, how’s your head?’ Struan stood at the door, grinning. He had on a yellow sweater over long brown shorts, knee-length red socks and brown shoes.

‘What on earth have you got on, Dad?’

Her father smiled again. ‘Like it? Mum says I look ridiculous, but I think it’s rather fetching. Meeting Mark for lunch today, thought I’d dress suitably.’