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“That’s not what I said.” Freya’s voice was pointed, but Lottie knew she didn’t mean any animosity. She had always been independent and spiky. Perhaps losing her parents before her first birthday was the reason for that. Or perhaps that was just how she was built. Either way, Lottie loved her and her brother more than she could ever have imagined.

“OK, love. Are you working at the pub tonight?” Lottie’s tone was conciliatory.

“Nope, Rory reckons I can have a night off.” Lottie could hear movement from Freya’s end of the phone. She would wager her twenty-one-year-old niece was getting out of bed and seeking coffee. She had a gentle Scottish accent, having lived up here since she was a baby.

“Perfect. Fancy dinner in the restaurant this evening? Anne-Marie will be there with Alistair and, as always, Anya’s cooking up a storm.” The line between Lottie’s job at the castle and her personal life was almost non-existent.

“Sure, but only if you make her do the chocolate fondant with chilli ice cream. OK, Lotts, I’m gonna get in the shower. See you later.” Freya wasn’t one for small talk.

“Bye, darling. See you this evening.” Lottie grimaced as the phone went dead before she’d even finished speaking. She was lucky to have remained close to her children. Because, essentially, that was what they were. Twenty years ago, following the accident that had killed her sister and brother-in-law, she had become their mum. It was quite alarming to consider that she had not been much older than Freya was now when it had happened.

She could hear pans clattering from the kitchen as she opened the wide heavy door. “Room for Freya at dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” said Anya, her face a picture of concentration as she prepped some vegetables. “Is she still vegan?”

“No, she missed cheese too much. She’s made a special request for the chocolate fondant, though.” Lottie slid her hands into her pockets and leaned against the wall.

“She always does that.” Anya’s eyes sparkled. “Chilli ice cream, too?”

“Of course,” laughed Lottie. “And Zack will be here with Tom in day or two.”

“All the family back together,” said Anya, who had already moved onto carefully weighing out eggs and flour. “It’ll be nice to see little Zack again.”

“You can’t keep calling him that, you know. He’s over six feet. He’s been taller than you for ages.” Lottie grinned at the memory of Zack’s awkward teenage years. Anya had always been a voice of wisdom and reassurance to Lottie.

“So, what’s up? Usually by now you’d be off to unblock a drain or see to a customer,” said Anya, without raising her eyes from the task she was undertaking.

“Ugh, how is it that you can read my mind like that?” complained Lottie.

“Not well enough, because I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking.” Anya looked up briefly and winked. “But I know something’s wrong. So, spill.”

“A blast from the past, I suppose you’d call it.” Lottie folded her arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Someone I was at uni with.”

“An ex?” Anya rested the point of her knife on a wooden chopping block and looked up.

“No, not at all,” said Lottie. “Just someone I used to see all the time. I guess we weren’t friends. If anything, she was quite aloof. She kept herself to herself. She was always working and never came to the big socials.”

“And?” Anya cocked her head to one side.

“Oh, I don’t know. There was always something about her. I always felt like there was something she wanted to say, like maybe she wanted to join in the fun. But whenever I tried to be sociable with her, she’d retreat back into her shell like a snail.” Lottie put her hands in her pockets. “People used to say she thought she was better than us. I’m not sure. But there was always this, well, tension between us.”

“Ooh,” said Anya, winking again.

“God no, nothing like that. I’m pretty sure she’s straight. But I always wondered about her. Anyway, I’ve seen her on TV since then.” Lottie fiddled with a key in her pocket.

“Oh, I see,” said Anya. “So we have a celebrity in our midst?”

“I guess. Hannah Castle, that journalist.” Lottie watched Anya’s face as recognition dawned.

“Oh yes, I know who you mean. The one who took down that bastard Saxon? Very hot, too, although a touch terrifying, if you ask me.” Anya was warming to her theme. “What’s the problem?”

“I just checked her in. She looked at me as if I was a minion or something. I recognised her immediately and said hi, but she didn’t remember me at all. It was weird. We weren’t friends, but we lived in the same place, doing the same course for three years.” Lottie’s brow furrowed.

“Do you think she really didn’t recognise you?” Anya resumed her chopping.

“I mean, I guess she wouldn’t have expected to see me here. I had grand plans to be a barrister in London. Maybe she didn’t recognise me working somewhere like this. Maybe she’s just a terrible snob and couldn’t lower herself to that?” Lottie was talking to herself as much as to Anya.

“Or maybe,” said Anya, “she’s just shy and was caught off guard.”