The interchange over, a silence fell between them. Greg made a point of concentrating on his driving, although he knew the track he was taking very well. He would have been happy to walk to the gorge, but finding her last night, pale and bloodied, and obviously in pain, he wouldn’t have asked that of her.

There was, he acknowledged, an awkwardness between them since the previous night’s revelations. Those moments that follow baring your soul that are sometimes filled with regret at having done so.

It couldn’t have been easy for her to speak about Richard. Or the reasons she’d made a play for him in London, and then visited him here. Although he was glad that he now knew how and why it had all come about.

She’d indicated she’d wanted them to talk about something over breakfast and he was sorry he’d asked her to wait until later. Mainly because he now thought she’d maybe changed her mind in the interim, and would likely not mention it. Whatever it was.

He could prompt her, of course, but if he’d learned one thing about Joanne, it was that she didn’t like to be persuaded.

The silence remained until they reached the place where he planned to leave the vehicle. As she climbed out, she seemed to emerge from her reverie to look around at what he knew was a view worth coming up here for. From this height, they could look four ways and get a real feel for where Blackrig lay among the surrounding hills.

‘Look west, and you can just get a glimpse of the sea,’ he said. ‘We could go west sometime soon if you like, then you can try swimming in the sea, rather than a freezing cold loch.’

He immediately saw by her expression that he’d made an assumption too far.

Silence fell again. It was, he thought, as though last night’s conversation had robbed them of further words.

He handed her his telescope and pointed. ‘You can see Beanach and, a little to its left, Ard Choille and An Lochan Uaine.’

She dutifully took it and looked.

He realized his notion of showing her where Blackrig sat in the firmament that was Scotland had fallen flat. And was sorry for it.

‘We can go back,’ he said. ‘If it’s too much, after last night,’ he added.

It was the first time either of them had mentioned last night, although they’d both probably thought of little else.

‘How many weeks pregnant was Caroline when she lost the baby?’ she suddenly asked.

He found himself at a loss, knowing whatever he said would only be an estimate. He decided to be honest about that.

‘I don’t know. Caroline didn’t tell me right away about the pregnancy. Why she didn’t . . .’ He paused. ‘Maybe she thought, like you, that it was only her concern.’