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The three of them remained in companionable silence for a few minutes, each alone with their thoughts. Lottie knew that Zack still thought of his mum often – he talked about her now and then. But Freya was much more of a mystery. She only talked about Meg when prompted.

“I was thinking…” said Freya, without introduction, interrupting Lottie’s thoughts.

Lottie and Zack turned to look at her. “Yeah?” said Zack expectantly.

“I’m going to do a food course at college.” Freya was staring into the trees in front of her. “I’ll need to leave here for a little while.”

Lottie’s heart started beating faster. Freya had been in stasis, working at the pub, for the last few years. She’d never pushed her to go to university or continue her education, because Freya was Freya. She did things in her own time and she didn’t like to be advised or guided in any way.

“But then I’ll come back and work with Anya.” Freya looked at Lottie.

“You will?” Lottie couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Yeah. I’ve already talked it over with her,” said Freya. She seemed to be searching Lottie’s face for something. Approval?

“That sounds amazing, Freya,” said Zack. “It’s a great idea.”

“It is,” agreed Lottie, beaming at her niece. “And well done for getting Anya on board. You won’t go wrong with her at your side.”

Freya’s face showed something that might have been relief. “I’ve been doing a bit of the cooking at the pub in the last few months, and really enjoying it. I tried to improve a few of the recipes, but apparently that’s ‘not done at The Stuck Pig’.” Freya used air quotes and rolled her eyes. “And Anya and I got talking a couple of weeks back.”

“That’s brilliant, love,” said Lottie, brimming with pride for her niece. “I’m really proud of you.”

Freya made vomit noises and Zack laughed.

Recipe: Christmas Eve Hot Chocolate

For one mug:

Heat 200ml of milk in a saucepan but make sure it doesn’t boil.

Mix together two heaped teaspoons of cocoa with ½ teaspoon of sugar, ¼ teaspoon of mixed spice and ¼ teaspoon of cinnamon.

Add a little very hot water to the mug and stir the contents into a creamy mixture.

Gradually add the hot milk, stirring all the time.

Add a slug of brandy (or rum) and a sprinkling of nutmeg.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

HANNAH

Fort William was bustling. The snow had melted enough for people to be out and about, doing their last bits of Christmas Eve shopping. Hannah knew she needed to do some of her own. She also needed clothes.

She made her way down the small high street, picking her way through the different shops. Most of the clothing was designed for outdoor adventures. She found herself buying more practical clothing than she had in a very long time. Her life in London didn’t often call for waterproof trousers or walking boots. But she managed to cobble together a couple of reasonable outfits for herself.

She spotted a group of young men in Santa hats celebrating completing the West Highland Way by the Black Isle Brewery. The ninety-six-mile route finished in the centre of Fort William. Hannah wondered how long they’d been held up by the snow. They made their way merrily into the brewery, which boasted delicious stone-fired pizzas. Hannah felt her own stomach rumble and made a note to visit once she’d completed her chores.

Nearby was the Museum of the West Highlands, and on a whim, she stopped outside and walked in. She was handed a glass of sherry as she entered, by a decidedly red-cheeked and merry old man who wore a badge labelling him a volunteer. “Merry Christmas, my dear,” he said as he ushered her into the quaint old house that housed the historic artefacts.

It wasn’t the sort of place Hannah would normally frequent, but she was interested to learn about the town that had seen a colourful history over the last few hundred years. One of the more fascinating discoveries was something called an ‘anamorphic painting’. Dating back to the eighteenth century, it was a picture of Bonnie Prince Charlie that could only be seen as such when reflected in a silver cylinder. Without the reflection, it just looked like a mess of colours and swirls. It meant that his supporters could subtly show their support without putting themselves at risk.

Back at the castle Hannah deposited her wares on her bed. She was pleased she’d remembered to get some gift wrap at the last minute. She smiled. She hadn’t bought Christmas presents on Christmas Eve in years. It felt exciting.

Or maybe she was excited because she knew that at some point today she would see Lottie again. The sherry and the sleep deprivation made her feel a little spaced out, but not in an unpleasant way.

But there was something she knew she couldn’t put off. She picked up her mobile and called the detective from London she’d spoken to. He’d left a voicemail asking her to call him back, and she dreaded what he might have to tell her.