Realizing how hungry he was, he decided it was time to check out the restaurant, plus take a look at the itinerary for the weekend.

That was when he first saw her.

She was sitting just inside, working on a laptop, a coffee alongside. She looked up at his approach, gave him a studied look, then smiled.

‘Greg Taylor, Blackrig Estate?’ She rose and held out her hand. ‘Joanne Addington, here to do a piece for The Field.’

Surprised she should know his name, he found himself saying, ‘Have we met before?’, thinking maybe at some drunken do, at a previous event.

‘Only on paper.’ She waved the list of contributors with their photos at him. ‘In this one you’re wearing a kilt.’ She looked him up and down.

‘Company policy, but only in the evening,’ he said, matching her smile.

She pulled her laptop towards her a little. ‘Join me, please. I don’t know anyone here, except you now.’

And that’s how it all began.

Greg

Later, he would question the way she seemed to have picked him from among all the other men who’d been there that weekend, just as he would question many things. But at that moment he was pleased to be the chosen one, because it didn’t matter who’d made the first move, since what followed had closely matched his own lockdown fantasies.

And those fantasies had brought her here to Beanach, his home on the estate. Something he hadn’t imagined possible. Yet on their last day in London, he’d found himself inviting her to Blackrig, now that lockdown was over. To his surprise, she’d immediately accepted.

‘I’d love to come, and soon. It sounds like a perfect place to write.’ She’d drawn him to her at that point, ‘and do the other things you’ve promised.’

And so, ten days later, he was picking her up off the Caledonian Sleeper at Inverness.

Watching her step onto the platform of the quiet station, he remembered his own reaction to the difference between their two worlds. She stood for a moment, as if doubting her decision to come here, before he called out her name. Then, catching sight of him, her face broke into a wide smile and, picking up her bag, she headed towards him.

He remembered thinking how little luggage she’d brought with her, and wondering if that was an indication of how long she planned to stay.

They loosely embraced rather than kissing, signifying perhaps the space that had grown between them during the previous ten days.

‘No kilt, I see,’ she quipped. ‘Although you do look like a gamekeeper.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ he said, lifting her bag. ‘The Land Rover’s not far.’

Once on the open road, silence replaced the casual chit-chat they’d engaged in as they’d walked to the car park.