Malcolm and his wife, Mairi, had been unstinting in their determination to help the village survive the pandemic. While Malcolm cooked, Mairi, as district nurse, had continued to carry out her duties, even delivering two babies during lockdown, before the new strain of the virus arrived to devastate the village and take her life along with the five children.

Something that should never have happened, he thought, feeling the familiar stab of guilt.

‘So,’ Malcolm said, with a nod of thanks for his mug of coffee, ‘you okay for tonight?’

‘I am,’ Greg confirmed. ‘Not sure about Caroline.’ He skipped over the part where he hadn’t spoken to her about it yet. ‘Although it’s going to be a squeeze having it here.’

‘Police orders,’ Malcolm said. He threw Greg a shrewd look. ‘Have they interviewed you yet?’

‘Just been there,’ Greg confirmed. ‘They’re swabbing everyone again too and taking fingerprints.’

‘Me, tomorrow morning,’ Malcolm said. ‘Should have been today, but I told the inspector there was too much to do now that they’ve shifted us from the hall.’ He was silent for a moment, before saying, ‘Have you any idea who destroyed the hot tub?’

Greg remained silent, but something in his expression must have suggested that he did.

‘You and me both,’ Malcolm said with a shake of his head. ‘We might not be pointing the finger, but someone will. The hall was pretty full that night and not everyone was against opening up again, seeing as we need visitors back in the village to survive.’

‘Pointing fingers will bring trouble. Just like the last time,’ Greg said.

‘About more than just the hot tub,’ Malcolm said. ‘At the end of the day, folk don’t care about that. Trashing it wasn’t going to stop wealthy folk coming to Ard Choille.’

‘Stratton was revelling in it, especially once they found the remains.’ The tone of Greg’s voice displayed his anger about that.

‘You’ve got a lot to deal with there, son.’ Malcolm patted his arm in support.

When Greg had helped out at the hotel as a young teenager, Malcolm had always called him ‘son’. As Greg had grown into an adult that had stopped, except in times of trouble, like now.

‘Anyway, the police will be focused on what happened to that poor lassie.’ A deep silence fell at Malcolm’s words, with only the hiss of the coffee machine to break it. ‘I take it you were questioned about the night she disappeared?’

Greg nodded. ‘Same questions. Same answers.’

‘She was a mixed-up kid. No doubt about that,’ Malcolm said with a shake of his head. ‘I honestly thought one of her old gang had come for her and taken her back to Glasgow. I wish I’d been right about that. Assuming the body is confirmed as Ailsa.’

When Greg didn’t respond, he changed the subject. ‘How long until the Party House folk leave?’