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“Oh, well, generally someone who’s confident, independent and knows what they want.” Lottie put her head on one side. “Although perhaps that’s why it hasn’t worked out before. It makes for colourful chemistry. Which can be challenging.” She pursed her lips. “But sometimes incredible as well.” She grinned. “If you know what I mean.”

Hannah felt warmth travel down her arms. The light in Lottie’s eyes seemed to be pointed directly at her, and she felt an irresistible desire to know more. “And is it just down to personality for you?”

“Often,” admitted Lottie, “although I’m a sucker for a brunette in a pair of heels.”

This time Hannah really did falter. Her trademark look was exactly that – her dark hair around her shoulders, and a pair of killer heels. It helped generate confidence, especially at work. She could feel Lottie regarding her and her skin prickled.

“What about you?” asked Lottie. “What’s your type? What was your husband like?”

Hannah felt oddly deflated by the question. It seemed so uninteresting compared to what Lottie had just been saying. “Well, he was a nice guy, I guess. He was tall, with brown hair. He was sort of confident in that way men are. He liked good food and nice holidays.”

“But what did you like about him?” Lottie asked.

“He was kind to me,” said Hannah. “We knew a lot of the same people. It just worked, socially.”

“And the chemistry?” Lottie was staring at Hannah now, pushing to know more, in a way that made Hannah feel more interesting than she had felt in a long time.

“It came and went, I suppose,” Hannah mused. “But I don’t know that I can ever recall the sort of explosive chemistry you’ve talked about, if I’m totally honest. So, going back to what you were saying, perhaps I have been doing it wrong.”

Lottie narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “I shouldn’t have said that. Really.” She placed hand on Hannah’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Hannah’s forearm felt like it was burning under Lottie’s touch, and she didn’t understand why. Or at least, she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to why.

“I’m going to get a whisky. What can I get you?” asked Lottie.

The conversation continued into the night, long after Freya had headed back to the castle. They talked about relationships they’d had in their respective youths, their lives since university, and fell into a rhythm that felt comfortable. It was almost intimate.

Hannah showed Lottie the newspaper article about her. She was shocked at how cross Lottie became about the fact that an old teacher had spoken to the paper, or that they’d used a photograph from her and Carl’s wedding. She seemed protective, in a way that made Hannah feel warm inside.

Hannah finished the rum she’d ordered when Lottie got her whisky and looked at her watch. “I think it’s time I went back to my room to get some sleep,” she said. “But this has been really nice.” She tentatively patted Lottie’s hand, a gesture which felt somehow dangerous.

Lottie smiled. “It really has.”

They stood and put their coats on, before braving the dark, cold and wind. The sleet had mostly stopped, but the pavements were slippery. It was a blustery walk back up the hill to the castle.

“There are some gale force winds incoming,” said Lottie, “so keep your wits about you.”

Hannah was about to reply, but in that moment a strong gust hit them, taking the words from her. Lottie seemed to lose her footing and without thinking Hannah shot out an arm and grabbed Lottie’s coat sleeve, pulling her in close.

“Wow,” exclaimed Lottie. “I rest my case. Thank you, I was about to go arse over tit there.”

Hannah was still holding her arm, more gently now. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m thinking whisky and wind don’t mix too well.” Lottie’s white teeth showed a grin in the dark. Another gust hit the side of the hill and Lottie reached out her other arm to hang onto Hannah. “I’m glad we battened down the hatches earlier.”

“Is this a common occurrence up here?” asked Hannah, trying not to think about how nice it felt to be so close to Lottie. She could smell the other woman’s shampoo as strands of her hair whipped out from under her hat.

“Fairly common, although this feels different to the other storms we’ve had this winter so far.” Lottie looked to the sky, before adjusting so she and Hannah were arm in arm. “Come on, let’s get you back to the castle.”

“What about you?” asked Hannah.

“Oh, I’ve walked through this sort of thing hundreds of times. I’m used to the terrain. Or at least I should be.” She laughed. “Besides, we have to walk past my cottage to get to the castle, so I won’t be far away once you’re safely deposited.”

It was a long time since Hannah had been walked home. And it was a first being walked home by a woman. She didn’t hate it. Somehow it seemed less performative than if a man had done it.

The women held onto each other, and Hannah found herself replaying the dates she’d had with men, all those times they’d walked her home and leaned in expectantly for a kiss at the front door. It was always so predictably dull. And if she gave in and kissed them, they’d want to come in.

Hannah and Lottie could no longer hear each other over the howling gale, so they walked in companionable silence, Lottie occasionally looking over at Hannah and giving her a reassuring smile.