‘Well, all we’ve got here are the papers pertaining directly to the house,’ Stephanie pointed out. ‘I’m not sure there would be any reason for her to be mentioned, given that the money would all have been in James MacDonald’s name.’

Rachel checked her watch. ‘I should really get back. It’s almost closing time at the bookshop and Gilly will need to get off home.’

They thanked Stephanie, who refused their offer to help put the papers away. ‘I’m sorry they weren’t more helpful. But I still think they’re fascinating. Come back if you want to look at anything else, won’t you?’ she said to Toby, blushing again. ‘I’ll be happy to help.’

On the drive back to Newton Dunbar, Rachel was quiet until the lighthouse tower came into view as they traversed the bridge over the river.

‘I think Stephanie’s right,’ Rachel said. ‘About Eveline’s state of mind in those last years. She basically became a recluse, didn’t she?’

‘I suppose that’s why James was so supportive of her building the lighthouse,’ said Toby. ‘As his inscriptions in the Austens said, it lifted her spirits as she worked on it.’

‘It didn’t help long term though, did it?’ Rachel said. ‘Think about what her note said. I was here and not here. I think that’s why she built the camera obscura. So that she could see life outside of Braecoille without having to leave it. Without having to really engage with it.’

Toby looked across at her as she stared out of the window at the lighthouse. The sun was beginning to wane, the light now a burnished orange that glanced off her nose and cheekbones.

‘It doesn’t mean she did really set the fire,’ he said. ‘Like you, I still think there’s something we’re missing. There are documents still in the camera obscura room that I have yet to scan. Maybe one of them will tell us something.’

‘Maybe,’ Rachel agreed, ‘but does it really matter, in the end?’

‘I think it does,’ he said. ‘And I think you do, too. I’ll come back with you now, if you like. I can do some work on the papers. I don’t have plans for this evening, do you?’

‘There’s some work I need to get done in the bookshop. Clearing the gatehouse is taking time and I can’t expect Gilly to do everything.’

‘Well, it’s up to you,’ he said, as he pulled to a stop beside the gatehouse. ‘If you’re okay with me being up there on my own, I’m happy to carry on and leave you to do whatever you need.’

She smiled slightly as she undid her seat belt. ‘Not the most salubrious place to spend an evening.’

‘Believe me, I’ve been in far worse places. As long as I can make myself a cup of tea, all will be right with the world.’

Rachel laughed, opening her door. ‘If you’re lucky, you might even find a packet of biscuits in my single kitchen cupboard.’

That was how he ended up in alone in her tiny living space, making tea as the sun slipped behind the forest just visible through the sliver of window. He found most of what he needed without too much trouble – the space was so small that there weren’t many places that the essential items could be – but he struggled with a teaspoon. There were none beside the sink and so he had to resort to the tiny set of drawers. The first drawer was full of papers and envelopes, so he slid it shut and moved on to the next. Finally, there was the cutlery.