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Lottie sighed. Anya was always so wise. She wished she could be.

“Maybe she is simply decompressing and isn’t actually thinking too hard about you and how you might feel,” said Anya.

“And now I feel like I’m making everything about me,” said Lottie, with a rueful chuckle.

“Well, a crush on a blast from the past will do that to a girl.” Anya stood up.

“I don’t have a crush on her,” exclaimed Lottie.

“We’ll see about that,” said Anya, twirling her empty mug on her fingers. “I’m not sure you’ve had the full story from that woman yet. Give her time.”

With that, Anya left the room, leaving Lottie to ponder what she’d said. She checked her phone again. Nothing. She felt her heart rate quicken slightly. The rain was swiftly turning to sleet. She knew the next thing would be snow. She swiped the screen and texted Zack to ask him if he was OK, and check he’d put snow chains in his boot in case he needed them.

Lottie heard the heavy wooden front doors bang. She put down her phone and hurried to reception. She was pretty sure all the guests had arrived for today.

“Yes, Lotts, I’m fine,” called Zack from behind two massive suitcases on wheels.

“Zacky!” exclaimed Lottie. Her boy was back home with her, just where she wanted him. She rushed to hug him through his thick woollen jacket. “This will never do in the snow or rain, it’ll get far too heavy,” she admonished before kissing him on the cheek.

“Always with the opinions,” laughed Zack through pursed lips.

“Hey, Lottie,” said Tom. The tall, thin man followed behind Zack, happy to let him take the lead.

“Come here, Tom,” said Lottie, pulling Tom into a bear hug that he appeared not to have expected. “Welcome home for Christmas.”

He looked at her, his cheeks slightly pink. “Thanks, Lottie.”

“I knew you’d be here, so I thought we’d come and say hello before heading to the cottage,” said Zack, looking back towards the doors.

“No, no,” said Lottie. “No one has booked the honeymoon suite, and I think your room is a bit small for the pair of you for the next week or so. It’s all yours.”

“Awesome,” said Zack. Tom gave a shy smile.

“Here’s the key. Up on the second floor with that glorious view across the loch. I know you remember it.” Lottie felt herself glowing from within. Her family were all together again.

“Thanks, Lotts. Where’s Freya?” Tom asked after Zack’s sister.

“I think she’s working in the pub this afternoon,” said Lottie. “You know how they get busy at this time of year.”

“We should pop down for a pint later,” said Zack.

Chapter Fifteen

HANNAH

Hannah had spent the day in Fort William. It wasn’t a big town: just a single main road from one end to the other. But there were plenty of shops and restaurants and cafes on either side. There were the inevitable shops selling tourist knick-knacks, and at least one dedicated to whisky. But she didn’t bother going in there.

As she was walking down the street, she spotted a copy of one of the tabloids. Above the main front page story she caught a glimpse of a header advertising a profile of ‘the woman who brought down a government’. Her heart sank. This was the last thing she needed. She felt her breath quicken.

The week before, the paper in question had asked to do an interview with her about breaking the story. She had said no. She had no desire to become any more embroiled in a story that was not about her than she already was. Clearly, the paper had gone to print with facts they had gleaned from elsewhere.

She texted Mark to ask if he’d seen it, and reluctantly bought a copy. She needed to know what they were saying about her. She found a pub with a quiet corner where she could have a drink and surreptitiously give the piece a read.

The local ale she ordered, Goldfinch, was very welcome, as the temperature dropped and the light faded. It was good to be out of the sleet. She gulped half of the pint in its dimpled glass before she dared open the paper. She then took a deep breath and opened it up.

“Reclusive reporter Hannah Castle is reluctant to talk about her role in bringing down a government, but our dogged reporters weren’t going to be discouraged. Piecing together previous interviews, notes from her sources and quotes from friends, this is the most comprehensive profile of the fearsome journalist you will read.”

Hannah huffed. She didn’t feel veery fearsome. She tapped her fingers on the table as she continued to read.