‘Ah, I’m sure he won’t, but okay.’ She grins and taps her nose. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

I set off, trying to forget all about it now, and relieved that Izzy will be home soon, which will prevent me from losing the plot anytime soon. The coach hasn’t arrived by the time I reach the Brownie hut. My phone rings, and I flinch, hoping it’s not Andy again; but it’s an unknown number.

‘Hello, is that Viv?’ It’s a woman’s voice; not Scottish but from the north of England. She sounds warm, friendly and efficient.

‘Yes, speaking?’

‘Hi, it’s Hannah Jeffers from the museum. I emailed you about your Girl Friday proposal?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she adds. ‘I probably dashed it off in a bit of a hurry.’

‘That’s okay,’ I say.

‘We’ve had a bit of a time of it lately – a pretty bad case of vandalism, which is really not what we need right now. Or at any time really.’ She pauses.

‘Yes, Isla told me about that. It’s terrible. I’m so sorry it happened.’

‘Yes, well … I’ve now had time to look over it again. Your proposal, I mean. I wondered if you might have time to come in and talk it over?’

My heart quickens. ‘Oh! Erm, yes, that would be fine,’ I say, trying to remain calm.

‘Isla said you work full time?’

‘Yes, but I can easily make some time—’

‘I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure you’re very busy—’

‘Not at all. I could take a holiday or pull a sickie …’ What made me say that? ‘Not that I ever do that kind of thing,’ I add, ‘but if it would help—’

‘There’s no need to do that,’ Hannah says, a trace of amusement in her voice now. ‘We’re open later on Thursday evenings. If that suited you, I could stay behind and we could have a chat then?’

I take a moment, trying to regain my composure and give the impression that I am mentally running through my packed schedule. ‘This Thursday evening, you mean?’

‘If that suits you. How about six-thirty?’

‘Yes,’ I say, all brisk and businesslike now, ‘that works for me.’

Tuesday, October 1

‘Viv?’ Andy says. ‘D’you have a minute?’

‘Just about to grab lunch,’ I reply. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Erm, well … this is a bit awkward.’

My heart starts to thud. I decide to take the stairs rather than the lift to the canteen so we can talk. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Erm … I wasn’t going to say anything. I thought it might be better to just leave it. But I suppose, well … it’s been playing on my mind, and I need to talk to you.’

I stop and look out onto the flat, unremarkable landscape. ‘Well, what is it?’

He sighs. ‘I’m worried about you.’