He tried her mobile first. It rang out a few times then went to voicemail, where a robotic voice, nothing like Joanne’s, asked him to leave a message. He didn’t.

He then tried the landline. It too rang out unanswered.

Catching sight of Greg’s worried expression, Malcolm said, ‘Call Kath and check if Joanne’s maybe waiting there for you.’

Kath’s delight at the sound of his voice was evident.

‘Where are you now?’

‘About ten minutes away. Is Joanne there?’

‘She was here earlier, but went back up to Beanach. At least, that’s where she said she was going.’

‘She’s not answering the landline or her mobile.’

‘She was looking very peaky when she was here. Hadn’t had much sleep last night, she said. I hope she hasn’t been taken ill. D’you want me to go up?’

‘She’s probably asleep and we’ll be there soon ourselves, but thanks anyway,’ Greg told her.

‘It’s good to have you home, son.’

His sense of foreboding grew as they entered the Beanach drive. When the house came into view there were no lights to be seen. If she’s asleep, he told himself, that wouldn’t be odd. Except it was.

Malcolm’s silence beside him spoke volumes.

Cresting the hill, he could make out the Land Rover in the headlights. If the vehicle was still there . . .

What little hope that had afforded swiftly evaporated.

There was no one here. He knew that even as he opened the door and stepped inside the house.

He still called her name as he walked through the lower rooms and climbed the stairs. Switching on the bedroom light, he saw the rumpled bed, the drawer from his bedside table sitting on top.

Then the envelope. The one he couldn’t throw away. The one that contained his last connection with the two people he’d lost. His child and Ailsa.

He stood with the envelope in his hands, knowing she’d found it and realized just how many lies he’d told her. Glancing in the corner, he saw that his fears were well-founded. The missing suitcase confirmed it.

She may have told Kath that she intended to stay, but then she’d discovered his little secret. That had been the final straw. Chances were she was already on the Caledonian Sleeper, heading for home and out of his life forever.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

Greg

‘She’s gone.’

He was saying it as much to himself as to Malcolm.

‘Her suitcase is missing. I suspect she headed for Inverness to catch the sleeper south, but how she would get there—’ He stopped as a horrible thought occurred.

‘The women from Ard Choille were supposed to be catching the train. Maybe Joanne got a lift from them?’ If she had, he thought, then her tale of how much she hated Stratton may well have been a lie.