“That might be odd in London Town, but it’s pretty much par for the course round here,” says Ali, putting the photo down. “Very hard to escape the sins of our fathers when everybody around knows exactly what they were.” He glances at me. “Shite. Sorry. Let’s talk about something much less controversial. Like, erm, Scottish independence or something,” he says, tongue in cheek.

“I’m against, as Ali well knows,” says Ben, in a screamingly obvious attempt to reinforce the change of subject. He takes the bottle that Ali pushes toward him. “You sure you won’t have any, Ailsa?” I shake my head.

“Fucking Aussie,” grumbles Ali. “Three of us here born in Scotland, and I’m the only one with any national pride. It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s common sense, is what it is.” Ben clinks his glass against Ali’s. “Ali’s a hopeless romantic, you see.”

“That’s exactly what I thought the first time I met him,” I say. They both grin at that, and I wonder what this little tableau must look like from the outside. Friends sharing drinks in the warmth of the magnolia kitchen, laughing and smiling and teasing. I glance out of the window, but all I see is the golden glow of the reflected room. If there was anyone out there in the darkness looking in, I wouldn’t be able to see them.

•   •   •

I wake in the morning to the sound of a car on the gravel, followed by the fading thrum of the engine as it leaves along the road. I’ve slept unexpectedly solidly; it takes a minute for my brain to fire up. Possibly it’s hindered by the pounding headache I’m experiencing, which feels akin to a hangover, though I don’t deserve one after only a couple of glasses of wine at dinner.

Ben or Ali, I realize. One of them must have been collecting his car. I don’t know enough about cars to be able to determine which from the vehicle noise. I don’t want to be undressed and unshowered if the other knocks on the door when picking up the remaining vehicle, so I reluctantly head for my bathroom and find Carrie’s open bedroom door staring insouciantly back at me across the landing. I wonder again where she can possibly be waking up. Perhaps she and Jamie went to a hotel?

I make it down to the kitchen, clean and dressed, just before there’s a rap at the front door. There ought to be a peephole in the door, I think, as I swing it open. A peephole, and security cameras and possibly a full troop of highly trained security guards on rotation. I’ll settle for the security cameras, though. It’s Ben that’s waiting for me on the doorstep. Ben and no obvious sign of any animal carcasses of any kind.

“Morning. Coffee? Scrambled eggs?”