‘I told you, it’s not personal. Besides, you don’t strike me as a big fearty.’

‘What’s a big fearty?’ she demanded.

‘Something you’re not.’ He kissed her firmly. ‘There are venison steaks in the fridge. I’ll cook them when I get back.’

He headed out to the Land Rover, releasing his two labs, Cal and Sasha, from their kennels to jump into the back.

In the glen below, where Blackrig nestled, the morning sun had burned off most of the mist, although faint spirals of it still rose from the surrounding pinewoods like spirits escaping the dawn.

Settled now in the Land Rover, he glanced in the rear-view mirror to find Joanne, still in a state of undress, observing his departure. He hooted the horn in response to her wave, and thought back to the moment they’d first met.

Greg

Then

Alighting from the Caledonian Sleeper in the early morning, he’d been greeted by a solid wall of heat and city smells.

It had been hot overnight in the single-berth cabin, so much so that he’d eventually lain naked in the bunk, rising early to wash and dress before his coffee and croissant had been delivered by a cheerful guard.

Gaining the platform had felt like stepping into an oven. He’d almost forgotten just how sweltering it could be down here during the summer months.

It wasn’t his first time in London, but the virus had prevented his annual visit to advertise the Blackrig Estate at the Highland Game event. Lockdown had hit the estate and its associated hunting and fishing visitors hard.

Now it was time to start it up again. So, as head ghillie on the small Highland estate, he was here to spread the word that visitors were welcome at Blackrig once more.

Walking towards the exit, he found himself dodging the swarms of people that filled the concourse, his brain still wired into the two-metre rule, or a coffin’s length apart. True, a few folk in the crowd were still wearing masks. As for the rest, it looked like the mass deaths had already been forgotten in the UK’s capital city.

Not so in his own neck of the woods, he thought. Not everyone in Blackrig was happy about opening up again to tourists. And there was a very good reason for that.

Greg shoved that thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on finding his way to the conference hotel. He would have preferred to stay in the open air, however muggy, but despite his earlier plan to walk to the venue, he found himself heading for the tube, since it was clear the crowded streets were no less busy than what he was likely to meet below ground. Plus he would get to his destination quicker.