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Too late. She’s already seen it.

Maisie

Hey, Cat and Iona! Sure. Tonight isn’t great for me, but things should be quieter in the Pheasant tomorrow evening, if that suits? If you come along, I can take a break from the bar for a while to sit down for a chat. Sound good?

Iona

That’d be brilliant, but please don’t feel you have to adopt me as a friend!!! I’m sorry about pouncing on you like this. *face-with-peeking-eye emoji*

Maisie

LOL, don’t be silly, it’ll be fun. Shall we say eight?

Iona

*thumbs-up emoji*

Maisie

Great. Now, Cat: can you really call yourself a “Bannock Babe” when you live in Wick?

Cat

Excuse me? I’ll always be a Bannock Babe at heart. But if you’re going to be pedantic . . .

A message pops up: the group’s name is now “Scottish Sirens”.

Cat

Sorted! All right, Iona, you’ve got something to look forward to tomorrow, but what about tonight? I think you could do with some me-time. How about a swim and sauna at the Glen Garve Resort?

Maisie

Good idea, or you could pump some iron at the gym. *person-lifting-weights emoji*

Cat

Ha, having lived with Iona for a few years, I’m pretty sure my suggestion is more up her street.

Cat is right, of course, but it’s not like I never go to the gym. I just don’t go very often. And because of that, I normally end up cancelling my membership, which means . . .

Okay, fine, I never go to the gym. But maybe now I’m back in Bannock, it’s time to turn over a new leaf. Perhaps it’s what I’m missing in my life. Exercise is important—for the mind and the body. It’d be healthy to work off a few frustrations.

Iona

Cat, you don’t know me as well as you think. Thanks for the suggestion, Maisie. I’m going to go get my sweat on.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LEWIS

My back flat on the bench, I press the barbell up, my arms shaking with the effort as they straighten, my muscles screaming under the heavy load. With a sharp exhale, I lower it, feeling the burn. Just two more reps. Almost there . . .

I lift again, my chest tightening. And then . . . down. All right, last one now.

Grunting, I raise the bar for my final rep, the strain in my chest and arms almost unbearable. Then, with a satisfying clang, I drop the bar back down onto the rack. My muscles protest with a fiery ache, but it’s a good pain, the kind that tells me I’ve pushed myself hard. Still, I’m not done yet—two more sets to go.

For a few moments I just stare up at the ceiling, sweat trickling down my temples, then I sit up and roll my shoulders to ease the tension. Grabbing my gym towel, I wipe my face and neck then stand and walk a few paces, psyching myself up for the next round. I’m about to settle back down on the bench when something—no, someone—catches my eye.