What had happened with Joanne after he got back to Beanach was a bit of a blur, mainly because of his seething anger at Stratton’s demands, plus the amount of whisky he’d consumed in order to concede to them.

They’d definitely made love, here in the kitchen and again in bed. Flashes of it were replaying even now as he drank his coffee.

Had his anger caused him to be rough with her? Too demanding?

Surely he would have stopped if she’d complained? Even having to ask himself that question bothered him.

Before he left for Ard Choille, he took through a mug of coffee and sat it beside her, hoping she might see it as a peace offering, or even a mark of contrition, when she woke up.

During the short drive, he vowed to try and spend some time with Joanne when they might talk properly. Get to know one another more than just physically. The weather was forecast to continue dry and warm. He could take her to his favourite spot on the far side of An Lochan Uaine. Have a picnic there, even swim.

The thought lightened his mood a little, although that disappeared when he saw a freaked-out Colin waiting for him just inside the gate.

‘I was going to call you. Harry says they’re about to remove the body.’

‘Good,’ Greg said. ‘Then things can get back to normal, around here at least.’

‘The ghouls are out.’ Colin motioned to the Party House.

Greg glanced in that direction, swearing under his breath. He already knew what was planned for when the police departed. Stratton had told him after Greg had finished his fabricated story last night.

‘We’re all wanting our photos taken up there,’ Stratton had declared. ‘It’s not often you get to holiday at a murder site. Plus it’ll provide publicity for the estate.’

Greg’s horror at that moment had threatened to engulf him. Stratton, it seemed, not content with ruining his relationship with the locals, had plans to advertise Ard Choille as a murder house.

‘They’re taking it to Glasgow,’ Colin was telling him. ‘Harry isn’t giving much away, but they definitely think it’s the Cummings girl. He even hinted at the possibility of forensic evidence from her attacker.’

‘What evidence?’ Greg said, his stomach flipping over.

Colin shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t say. Harry’s really worried by all this. He wasn’t our local bobby back then, but he knows the guy who was.’

‘Derek McNeil,’ Greg said. ‘He retired early, not long after it happened.’

‘They’re interviewing everyone who was here then, in the village hall, and swabbing the males. Harry says they’ll make contact with those who’ve left.’

So, it was all happening again. The questions, the fear, the swabs. Greg felt sick at the thought.

‘It won’t affect you,’ he reminded Colin. ‘You weren’t here five years ago.’