Greg steeled himself before going in, knowing Caroline was liable to be even more obvious in her displeasure when she saw that he was alone. She was busy serving someone, so he went and picked up the items Joanne had mentioned she’d forgotten to pack and took them to the counter.

Caroline waited until her other customer, Mrs McVitie, had left before she turned her wrath on him.

‘You knew they had a team up at the Party House getting it ready?’

‘No,’ he said honestly. ‘I have nothing to do with letting or maintaining the place and I only see the visitors if they want to go shooting or stalking.’

‘This can’t happen. Have they no respect? It’s a death house to us. They broke the law by bringing folk there and killed six people. Four of them babies. Have you forgotten that?’

The look she’d shot him when she’d said ‘babies’ cut him to the quick, as she knew it would.

When he remained silent, she said, ‘There’s a meeting about it tonight in the village hall. You work for the bloody estate, so I’m assuming you’ll be there?’

Greg nodded. He would have to go. Colin too, if only to gauge the degree of mounting anger against their employers, Global Investment Holdings.

She seemed to soften a little at that, and gave him a smile to remind him that they had once been more than just this. Greg waited, imagining the next comment would be about Joanne, but it didn’t materialize, even as she bagged the obviously feminine items he’d come in to buy.

As he departed the shop, he wondered just how soon he would be told what Caroline thought about Joanne. Or alternatively, and much worse, when Caroline would decide to tell Joanne all about him.

That thought unnerved him the most.

Back in the Land Rover, he texted Joanne and told her he’d picked up what she’d wanted from the shop, so there was no need for a trip to the village. Then, checking the time, he headed for the Party House.

Cresting the hill, he could make out Beanach up to his right, and on the left the little track he’d driven down with Joanne. The tree he’d taken her to was very near the grounds of the so-called Party House, although the house’s original name was in fact Ard Choille, which meant ‘high wood’. And it was obvious why when it came into sight.

A pale silver wooden structure that blended perfectly into the surrounding mature birch trees. Built on three levels with a live birch at its centre, it resembled a big treehouse with encircling balconies from which to watch the sun rise and set. The front of the building looked down on open grass to a green-coloured lochan, known as An Lochan Uaine.