Approaching the crossroads now, he turned left towards the village, just as two fire engines appeared, one behind the other, heading towards them.

She assumed he would draw in to let them pass, but it seemed he had no intention of doing so.

‘They have right of way,’ she screamed. ‘Get into the passing place.’

He swore, but at the last minute swerved onto the verge as the first fire engine, siren now full on, showed its intention to keep coming.

Cursing it from behind his smoked-glass window, the siren drowning all sound, he didn’t hear the click as she released her seat belt and opened the car door.

Then she was out and running. Dodging behind the first engine, then immediately into the woods, knowing that if she ran down the road, he would swiftly follow.

But here among the trees, she might just have a chance of losing him. And if she managed to follow the path to the big pine and beyond, she would emerge in the grounds of Ard Choille, where surely the fire engines were heading.

At first she heard nothing but the pounding of blood in her ears. She was reliving her last run through these woods. The darkness then had frightened her, causing her to stumble and hit her head. Now she craved the dark, knowing it would have helped her stay hidden from him.

Compelled to stop for a moment, she bent double, trying to get her breath back and ease the stitch that gripped her side.

It was then she heard him, crashing his way through the undergrowth towards her.

How could she imagine he wouldn’t catch up? She was his prey in here, just as she had been in London.

Forcing herself to stand up and get her bearings, she heard the rapid approach of someone or something from a different direction.

Frozen in her tracks, she watched as a big stag came leaping from the undergrowth, its eyes wild with terror, jumping and weaving, trying to escape the smell of smoke and the crackle of flames. Above it, birds rose in a cloud, echoing its fear, as they too fled the pockets of fire.

Was the stag running towards the lochan? Or away from it?

Disorientated, the wisps of smoke catching at her throat, she stood hesitant, with no longer any idea in which direction she should run.

Then she heard him shout her name.

Her cry of relief, when the noisy advance had turned out to be a stag, had alerted him to her location.

Now she knew which way to run. Anywhere as long as it was away from him.

As she took off, she heard him behind her. Telling her to stop because she was running towards the fire.

Was she? And what was worse? Running into the flames or being caught by Richard? She knew the answer to that question.