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“No. I’ve just got divorced, but me and Carl are on good terms. I don’t have a big social circle. Consumed with work, really.” Hannah found her own description of her life a little bleak.

“And at work?” Sunitra was still scribbling on her pad.

“I get on fine with everyone there,” confirmed Hannah. “Mark is my editor, and he’s probably my closest friend.”

“He received the first note?” Sunitra asked.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Hannah picked up a piece of gingerbread, raised it to her mouth, then lowered it slightly. “I guess I’m assuming it’s someone who’s seen me on the telly. It’s amazing how people think they know you. They can get a bit obsessed.”

“Aye,” said Sunitra. “I’d say you’re probably right.”

“I’ve had some dodgy messages over the years, especially on social media. But nothing like this.” Hannah took a mouthful of the biscuit and savoured its taste. There was a heat and spice to it that was delicious.

“The shit that women in the public eye have to put up with is appalling,” said Sunitra, causing Hannah to snap her head up. “I’ve seen the terrible things people say to female politicians, and some of the nonsense they have to deal with.” Sunitra shook her head. “It’s disgraceful.”

Hannah gave a resigned nod. The ire facing women in the public eye was something she was depressingly familiar with. She reflected that Lottie probably didn’t have to deal with that, working up here in the Highlands.

Sunitra went through a few more questions before closing her notepad. “Fingers crossed the electricity board sorts out the power cut in time for Christmas,” she said. “Anya reckons the hotel freezers have another twenty-four hours in them before the food starts to be at risk. They’re good and big and the castle walls are thick, so I’m sure it’ll be OK.”

Hannah smiled. “Everyone here seems to be taking it in their stride.”

“Och, it’s a regular occurrence.” Sunitra waved her hand in a sign of dismissal. “Will you be staying for Christmas, then?”

“Yes,” said Hannah. “The snow and this situation have persuaded me it’s the best thing to do.” And Lottie, but she didn’t say that bit out loud.

“Right you are,” said Sunitra. “I’ll be around. It’s the only way I get to see my wife on Christmas Day, you see.”

“I’m sure our paths will cross again,” said Hannah.

“They will. But in the meantime, if anything comes to you, or anything strange happens, please just call me. Here’s my landline and my mobile for when the power comes back on and you have Wi-Fi.” Sunitra handed Hannah a card.

“Thank you,” said Hannah, pocketing the piece of cardboard.

Sunitra left Hannah to her own devices, leaving the billiard room door open.

It was an impressive wood-panelled space. There were several deer heads on the wall, as well as the horns of various other creatures that had been hunted over the years. Hannah stood to examine the room more carefully. It looked like some of these hunting prizes had been brought back from Canada. But some were clearly local. There were plaques underneath them, inscribed with dates. All of them were from at least eighty years ago. It made her wonder if people still kept the heads of beasts they’d hunted, mounted on varnished wooden shields.

On one side of the room was a cabinet containing two elderly hunting rifles that were a hundred and fifty years old. A label explained that they had belonged to former owners of the castle. The billiards table was set up and ready for a game. It was at least twice the size of a pool table, and it seemed huge to Hannah. She was contemplating putting the skills she had acquired during her pool-playing days to the test, when a man came in with a woman, talking loudly.

“Have you seen this room yet?” he asked, his accent giving away his American origins. He was wearing a kilt, and the woman was draped in a tartan pashmina.

“No, darling. Wow, look at those.” She pointed at the hunting trophies on the wall.

“I came in here for a whisky the other night after you went to bed,” said the man. “I like to commune with my ancestors in places like this,” he explained. He looked over at Hannah. “Oh, hey, ma’am, how are you today?”

“Oh, er, fine thanks.” She smiled politely and turned to examine the books in the bookcase nearby. There was a copy of Who’s Who from 1961, along with a number of aged natural history text books dating from well before that. It was more a time capsule than a standard book case. She pulled out one of the books and took a surreptitious sniff.

“Old books, they always smell great, don’t they?” said the man, whose curly white hair put him in his late fifties, in Hannah’s estimation.

“Mmm,” said Hannah.

“My ancestors used to own a castle in these parts several hundred years ago,” said the man.

“We don’t know that for sure, Jim,” said his wife, a note of weariness in her voice.

Hannah sucked her cheeks in and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Very nice.”

“Yeah, but we’re not sure which one. So we’re touring them all right now,” he continued.