‘I wonder where we could get one?’ I muse, getting up as my phone starts ringing. I show Isla the name displayed: Andy. She splutters as I accept the call.

‘Hi,’ he says, ‘is this a good time?’

‘Actually, Isla’s here at the moment.’

‘Oh. I won’t keep you a minute—’

‘We were just talking about severed penises. Peen-eye. What is the plural, anyway?’

‘Huh?’ A sharp exhalation. ‘I was hoping to talk to Izzy, but I’m guessing she’s still away?’

‘She’s back on Saturday,’ I say, thinking: I’m sure I told him this.

He sighs. ‘So, how she’s getting on? Have you heard from her?’

‘Yes, of course I have. She’s having a great time.’

‘That’s good.’ Andy pauses. ‘So, she’s having lots of fun?’

As I’ve just stated, yes. ‘Sounds like it. She’s loving being in the caravan.’

‘Ah, that’s good. I’ve missed her, though.’

‘Yeah, I’m missing her too,’ I say briskly, eager to finish this call. It always puts me on edge when Andy slips into this ‘can we be mates?’ kind of tone, which I’ve noticed creeping in recently.

‘I’m hoping to nip down to see Spence soon,’ he adds, ‘but he’s always so busy …’

‘Yes, I know he is.’ Stop trying to elicit sympathy, idiot. ‘So,’ I add, ‘how are things up there at the loch? Are your parents okay?’ I know he loves it up there normally; bracing waterside walks are very much his thing.

‘Yeah, everyone’s fine.’ He pauses. ‘But the set-up hasn’t been quite what I expected.’

‘In what way?’ Now my interest is piqued.

‘Well, you know there are these new lodges, and me and Izzy had been allocated one?’

‘Yep.’ The bespoke quilts, the log-burning stoves and all that.

‘Somehow, there’d been a mix-up with numbers and when it turned out to be just me, without Izzy, I was put in a tent in the garden and you know what the midges are like up here.’

‘Oh.’ A smile tweaks my lips. ‘So, you’ve been bitten, then?’

‘Eaten alive,’ he bemoans. ‘Scratching all night. Can you believe I only brought shorts with me? Stupid, I know. I’ve tried all the lotions but you know what I’m like, how I react so badly. Once I’m bitten I get the wheals and the blisters …’ What a pity, I muse, that Estelle isn’t up there to witness her lover, clawing at himself in a tent.

‘Couldn’t you just come home early, if it’s that bad?’

‘The party’s tomorrow. It’s a huge deal to them and I’ve promised to help with the barbecue.’

Ah, of course. He does enjoy showing off at the coals, grappling sausages in his manly way. ‘Ah, I see. Well, like I said, Isla’s here so I’d really better go.’