He’d taken care on the way up, aware that Joanne might still be hurting after her fall last night in the woods. Excusing himself for what would be a rough and speedy return journey, he told her to hold on.

This was what they’d feared. A dry spell that had gone on too long, leaving the heather-clad hillsides and woods tinder dry. As they descended, they came within smelling distance of the smoke blowing across the valley.

‘That’s all we need,’ he said grimly. ‘A wind to give it oxygen.’

‘Is the village in danger?’ Joanne said anxiously.

‘We’ve had to evacuate once in the past. At the moment it looks to be heading away from Blackrig, but things can change very quickly.’

As he drew near the Beanach track, Joanne told him to let her off there and she’d walk up.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Go,’ she ordered, getting out and waving him away.

Joanne

Halfway up the drive she turned back, deciding that rather than wait at Beanach for news, she would walk down to Kath’s. At least there she would know sooner rather than later what was happening about the progress of the fire, and no doubt Kath’s opinion on the latest developments in the police investigation.

Also, the thought of the elderly woman’s no-nonsense approach to pretty much everything made her wonder if she shouldn’t confide in Kath about her own current dilemma.

She found herself sniffing the air periodically as she walked, looking for the whiff of smoke they’d encountered up on the hill earlier, but whatever way the wind was blowing, it wasn’t sending it towards Blackrig . . . yet.

Before he’d left her at the crossroads, Greg had given her a brief resumé of the previous time the village had had to be evacuated. The fire had started in the woods south of Blackrig. Jumping the road, it had met a wood lorry, which on catching fire itself had contributed to its spread.

‘How it started, it’s difficult to know,’ he’d said. ‘A cigarette thrown from a car. The sun on broken glass at the roadside. A camper’s fire. Probably similar reasons to how this fire began.’

‘What about deliberate?’ she’d said.

His face had grown fierce at this. ‘They’re the worst ones, because the people who start them are rarely caught and don’t pay the price for the devastation they cause to wildlife and people.’ When he’d said that, his jaw had tightened, and she’d realized she’d seen that expression before, when he’d spoken of the virus and the casual way it had been introduced to Blackrig.

She recalled Caroline’s claim that Greg had been the one to blame for that. Something she hadn’t repeated last night, when she’d told him Caroline’s other accusations.