I turn away deliberately, toward Fiona. She’s holding a cigarette now, an unfocused look on her face. I smell the smoke and it immediately puts me in mind of the Manse, and suddenly I can’t stop myself. I sit on the uncomfortably uneven stone wall next to her. “Fiona.” She turns to look at me, the small movement almost upsetting her balance given the alcohol we’ve all sunk. “I know you like to visit the Manse.” Her eyes are trying and failing to focus on me, but I can see she understands. She knows what I’m talking about and she doesn’t even try to deny it. My next words are hard and low. “I’m warning you. If you ever visit the Manse uninvited, I will have you arrested, do you hear me?”

She looks back at me, swaying almost imperceptibly. I can’t see the color of her eyes in this light, and it occurs to me that I don’t even know what color I should be seeing. The moment drags out. Then she carefully lifts the hand that isn’t holding the cigarette and deliberately reaches out toward me with it. I try to pull away, aghast, but without standing up I can’t get far enough away; almost in slow motion, I watch her hand get nearer and nearer to my face, unable to escape it. She pats me gently on the cheek. “S’okay,” she says. Her eyes still aren’t focused. “You ’n’ me are going to be great pals.”

I stare at her, almost shaking, both floored and furious in equal measure. “You’re not listen—”

“Success!” I hear Carrie call, and I look up. She’s exiting the Quaich, brandishing her coat, with Jamie behind her; there is nothing more I can say. I stand up.

“Do you want a lift home?” Jamie asks me. “It’s all right, I wasnae drinking.” He looks down at Fiona, still sitting on the wall with her head bent. “Unlike this one.” His expression is a mix of exasperation and something else. I wonder what it’s like, to feel tied to someone like this, someone who walks in your own friendship circles so that you can never quite escape. He becomes aware of the weight of my gaze and gives me a rueful smile and a shrug.

“Actually, that would be great.” I smile back at him, a proper smile. It may be the first one I’ve bestowed upon him. “Right, Carrie?”

She sighs theatrically. “Much as I hate to say it, I do have a rehearsal to get up for in the morning.” She turns to call out to Ben. “Can I take a rain check on that rather fine whisky?”

“Anytime.” Then his gaze is caught by Fiona on the wall, and he leaves Ali and Piotr. “You okay, hon?” he asks, hunkering down.