She watched the Land Rover depart, giving it her usual wave and receiving a hoot of the horn in response.

Back in the kitchen, she sat down to consider what had just happened.

Greg hadn’t been exactly truthful about his conversation with a traumatized Colin. She knew that because she’d stood out of sight and listened. And whatever had freaked Colin had been more than just an attack on the hot tub.

And why had Greg avoided telling her what that something was? Could it be because he didn’t want her to know at all, or just not until he’d viewed whatever it was for himself?

Then another scenario suggested itself.

Might Colin’s call be related to what Greg had been doing in the middle of the night? The reason why he’d had to shower and wash his clothes when he came back? Why he’d needed a stiff drink?

It had been clear when he’d returned from the council meeting that he didn’t want this group of visitors to arrive. That he thought they were opening the Party House up too soon after the virus deaths.

She stopped herself there.

She just couldn’t see Greg vandalizing the property, knowing that the blame would likely land on Josh’s gang because of their behaviour last night. Greg wouldn’t do that.

She chided herself at this point. Let’s face it, she had absolutely no idea what Greg was capable of, outside of sex, which was how they’d spent most of their time together.

She thought back to yesterday evening. How rattled she’d been when she’d suddenly realized he was right behind her and might see what she’d been writing.

She’d immediately shut down her laptop and presented herself to him to make sure he wouldn’t ask. And it had worked.

Hearing a car approach now, she rose swiftly and went to the window, wondering if Greg had forgotten something, only to see it was a police car.

Still in her dressing gown, she answered the door.

‘Morning, Miss. PC Harry McGowan. I’m looking for Greg?’

‘He just left five minutes ago, to go to the Party House. Colin called first thing about some vandalism, he said.’

‘Right, Miss . . .?’ He waited, obviously looking for a name.

‘Addington,’ she offered. ‘Joanne Addington.’

‘Ah, Greg’s visitor from London. A short break, is it?’

Joanne felt herself bristling, despite the smile on the policeman’s face. ‘Lockdown’s over,’ she found herself reminding him. ‘It’s perfectly legal to travel about the UK.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy your wee holiday, Miss Addington.’

As he headed for the car, Joanne went back inside and shut the door, aware that she had begun to blush under his keen stare. Why should she apologize for being here anyway? Or say how long it was for?