‘Thank you,’ I said, and realized I had started to appreciate the simplicity of the sentiment. People genuinely were sorry for me. They wished it hadn’t happened. Is that not the truest expression of regret? I filed the thought away. I would chew it over at leisure.

‘Is it through the castle then?’ I asked, squinting into the rain.

‘Aye, ye can see what little there is if you ye push on down this road and go through the courtyard and over the wee wall. Go through the next field and ye’ll see where the river widens. There’s about eighty head of beef in there though and I know ye won’t see owt worth the walk.’ He paused and looked at his watch. ‘If ye hop in I’ll show you in the dry.’

Instinctively I shook my head. I had been told too many times of the dangers of getting into cars with strange men. I thought of the sisters. I was a wicked thing; a product of desire and illicit, sticky fumblings. I had been made from a wanton act. I was not a creation of love but of temptation and lust. I heard such accusations throughout childhood. I knew of my wickedness. Knew how filthy a thing I was. Knew what I would become if I did not keep my heart open to God’s love and my legs closed to the attentions of weak-willed men.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I can only get so wet, can’t I? And my skin is waterproof.’

He looked at me oddly then gave in to a huge laugh that ill-suited his delicate frame. So too did the idea of him working in a manual job. He looked slender and flimsy, like fine porcelain.

‘Love, I can’t let ye gan on in this weather. And I swear, ye’ll be home quicker and without yer death of cold.’

He could see me pondering it. I was soaked. Frozen through. My teeth were chattering and my hands were so cold that I was struggling to feel their tips. If this man meant me harm he would be able to get me into his vehicle without much of a fight. And he would have to be a very opportunist killer to be driving down this road at this time in the hope of finding a lone female.

‘If it’s no trouble …’

‘Please, ye’ll be daeing me a favour.’

Decision made, I walked around the front of the vehicle. There was black mud and torn grasses snagged in the grill. A streak of rusty red on the broken headlight. He leaned across and opened the door and I gratefully climbed inside. It smelled of outdoors brought in. Damp earth. Wet leaves. The tang of gunpowder and wood polish.

‘There’s a flask under yer seat. Get it in ye.’