‘We’re fucked,’ Colin whispered by his side.

The first person to speak from the floor was the mother of Tracey Scott, the youngest victim at only eight months old.

‘How is it that if a car had driven at speed through our village, killing our children, the driver would be charged? If a man had shot them all, he would go to prison. How can the estate owners not be charged for wilfully breaking lockdown and killing people?’

It was the question that had been asked multiple times, and never answered.

‘Because rich folk can do whatever the hell they like, whatever the consequences,’ someone shouted, after which he turned and glared at Greg and Colin.

‘Jesus,’ Colin whispered. ‘We’re dead men.’

Greg shushed him as Malcolm began to speak.

‘I have contacted Global Investment Holdings and explained about our concern at having visitors to the Party House so soon, giving our reasons. They assure me that they will not be seen in the village and will bring their own catering staff with them, so will be self-contained.’

‘Rubbish,’ someone shouted. ‘They’ll be meeting with those two at the back of the hall.’

All eyes turned to Greg and Colin.

‘We have no influence on what happens with the Party House,’ Greg said evenly.

‘But you were down in London not long ago advertising it,’ someone shouted.

Greg knew he couldn’t deny this, so there was no point in trying. Joanne’s presence at Beanach was clear evidence of his London visit.

‘I’ve worked on the Blackrig Estate most of my life, as my father did before me,’ he said. ‘If I leave, Global Investment Holdings will just bring in someone else, and they won’t be local. How will that help?’

‘He’s right,’ a voice shouted. ‘At least Greg’s one of us.’

The murmurs surrounding them now were more conciliatory. Colin threw him a look of thanks. ‘Maybe we won’t get lynched after all,’ he said with a weak smile.

‘Not tonight, anyway,’ Greg said, hoping that was true.

He’d spotted Caroline in the throng, but she hadn’t looked round until then. Now she nodded her approval and threw him a small appreciative smile.

The relative calm that followed his speech was sadly short-lived.

At that moment, the back door to the hall was flung open and a babble of angry voices entered, causing everyone to turn.

‘Here we go again,’ Colin muttered as six young men, led by Josh Huntley, marched into the room.

Greg took a deep breath. This, he realized, was much more serious than the mood of the crowd in the hall. Checking out Josh’s gang, he registered that every one of them had a close connection to the virus deaths, and all were as angry as their leader.