Checking she was still alone, she began taking her photographs. She would write about this place in her tale of Blackrig. Seeing the graves had made her realize how terrible it had really been. It would no doubt do the same for her readers.

Before she departed the cemetery, she went in search of Greg’s family plot, recognizing on the gravestone the story he’d told her of the death of his mother in his childhood, followed by his father when Greg was a teenager.

So he’d been telling her the truth.

She, of course, hadn’t shared with him any of her own true story. In fact, she had no intention of ever doing so.

How would Greg react if he found out why she was really here and what she was actually writing about? Would he become like the version she’d seen earlier in the Land Rover? Would he end their relationship and send her packing?

Did she care if he did? After all, they hardly knew one another. And there was no doubt he had his own secrets, one of which included Caroline.

Back in the woods now, she chose the path that led to the village hall, intent on checking in with Kath Webster, if she was about. Kath had been pretty open with her thoughts on their first meeting, although Joanne had the feeling she was being scrutinized, as well as being informed.

If anyone was going to reveal the real story of Ailsa Cummings and her time in the village, then she was pinning her hopes on Kath.

Greg

As he approached the Beanach turn-off, his mobile rang. Seeing Colin’s name on the screen, he switched to loudspeaker.

‘You anywhere nearby, boss?’ a hopeful voice said.

‘Coming up the hill, just short of Beanach.’

‘Can you meet me before the Party House gates?’

‘Why, what’s up?’ Greg said warily.

‘I’ll tell you when I see you,’ was the short reply.

Gaining the brow of the hill, he spotted Colin’s jeep parked in the shade of a tree, his two dogs eagerly lapping at bowls of water he’d set down for them.

‘What is it?’ he said on approach.

‘Stratton wants you at the house.’

‘Any idea why?’

‘Arrangements for tomorrow. He wants you to be the one to go out with them this time and definitely not me.’

It was what Greg had been expecting. His story of helping the police ‘with their arrangements’ was obviously wearing thin.

‘Did they get a stag?’

‘Not this time, which is why he’s so pissed off. He also picked up a tick,’ Colin said. ‘Which was somehow my fault. If I’d had anything to do with it, it would have latched onto his prick rather than his leg.’

‘Any word yet when they’re leaving?’

‘Sadly, none.’ Colin sounded on the verge of despair.