‘Mags, Mags – eeh, me lass, don’t; please don’t go near it. Stay with me, as Angus says.’

‘No. No-oooo!’ Mags sank to the floor as the awful truth hit her. Montel was still in the boathouse, and probably Rory, too. Please God, no.

She could stretch her mouth no wider, nor sob any deeper, as her body gave way to the terrible fear that was tearing her limb from limb.

Betsy knelt beside her. Through her own sobs, she tried to give Mags hope, but Mags knew there was none to be had. Her precious Montel . . .

‘He’s gone. Oh, Betsy, he’s gone.’ With this, a mist came over Mags and took her into blackness.

When Mags opened her eyes, Betsy was by her side. ‘Eeh, me lass, me poor lass. Shock took you into a deep faint. Some of the men carried you back here. Try to drink this water, Mags.’

‘Is – is it true? Has . . . my Montel, has he gone?’

‘Oh, Mags, me lovely friend. I – I . . . well, I’m sorry, lass. Sorry to the heart of me, but—’

‘No! Oh God, don’t say it. Don’t!’ But then Mags realized she had to know the truth, had to hear it spoken. ‘Oh, Betsy, has he . . .?’

‘Yes, lass. Eeh, I’m sorry. Me heart is breaking for you, but – well, they found three bodies.’

‘Three?’ Mags sat up. ‘Who . . .?’

‘Well, Rory can’t be found; and his dog, as you knaw, was lain outside, probably clubbed with sommat heavy. The third body ain’t certain, but I reckon we can have a good idea; well, I hope so anyroad.’

‘Harold?’

‘Aye. Angus has just been and told me the news. They all knew there was a problem, and that Rory was helping by guarding us. But I told him about Harold, and what we feared. He said there’s a strange car parked at the bottom of the slope, but there’s a few around, as there allus is, so they want to knaw if we knaw the make of Harold’s car. In the meantime the hoteliers and innkeepers are checking that all their guests are safe, and the villagers are checking all the locals.’

‘I only know his car is a green one. I’m not sure about different makes. But it has to be Harold. Please God that it is. I would never wish this fate on anyone, but I would on him. And if it is, I hope he continues to burn in hell for eternity.’ A huge gasp seized Mags as she finished saying this. ‘Help me. Oh, my Betsy, help me.’

‘I’ll hold you, me lass. I’ll do all I can for thee.’

Mags felt her emotions shutting down, as Betsy held her close. It was as if a shield had been put up between her and the horror of what she faced: a long, bleak future without her Montel. This shield allowed her to ask questions. ‘Did Angus say what caused the fire?’