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“I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming about the letter before last night. I really was hoping to get it all cleared up before I told you, and I never intended to keep it from you.”

“I know, love. I have good and bad days. Some days I miss her so much, and I think the letter just brought it all up again. It doesn’t really go away. Some days it’s just easier to live with, you know?”

“I know.” I rest my chin on Mum’s head, wishing I could make it better. “Do you want to come to Ruth’s?”

“I think so. Dad’s not convinced it’s a good idea, but if she does know anything, she can tell us all together.”

“Okay, is Dad coming too?”

“Aye, can we take your car?”

“Of course. I was going to drive back the long way, take Abby to the Quiraing, but I can always drop you guys home first.”

“I’ll wrap up warm just in case. Let’s see how it goes. I don’t want to intrude on your time with your friend.”

I snort out a laugh. “Maybe more than a friend. She’s agreed to make a go of it.”

She claps her hands with joy. “Oh, Cam, I’m so pleased. I know you’ve had your own stuff going on, but I just want you to be happy. I haven’t spent enough time to really get to know her yet, but she seems lovely.”

“She is. But don’t put too many expectations on us, okay? I don’t think it’s going to be a conventional relationship.” Mum frowns and I pause, unsure how much to say. “Neither of us are thinking about marriage and kids and white picket fences.”

Mum nods, glancing across the room to Abby, who’s making coffee while Dad prepares the rolls. “As long as you’re happy and she makes sure you don’t work too hard, I don’t mind how it looks.”

Dad and Abby come back with steaming mugs of coffee and crispy rolls filled with square sausage and tattie scones.

“So all the Macleod men are obsessed with potatoes then?” Abby teases before she digs into her roll.

“What’s this then? Some kind of intervention?” Ruth asks as we all pile into her sitting room. She’s sitting in her favourite armchair, next to the window, where she can keep an eye on what’s happening on the street outside.

After hugs and introductions, Mum and Dad take the two armchairs opposite Ruth, and I tug Abby down beside me on the loveseat opposite the window. Abby glances around the room, taking in all the framed photos and artwork covering every inch of wall space available.

“Good to see you, Cameron. It’s been too long.” Ruth turns her owl-like gaze on me. “You’re working down in London, I hear.”

“That’s right. I’m renovating a building down there. It’s called The Juniper.” Ruth’s eyes narrow shrewdly. “It’s the building Gran left to me.”

“That’s right, I remember.” Of course she does. My Great Aunt has the memory of an elephant. She may be in her eighties, but she still has all her wits about her. It’s her frailty that we all worry about.

Susan, Ruth’s carer-companion, bustles in with a tea tray. She sets it down on the coffee table and pours everyone a cup before passing round a plate of biscuits. Abby and I both make a move for the last chocolate-covered one. She gets there first, but I steal a bite. She gasps at my audacity as I chew and swallow. She shoves the remaining two-thirds in her mouth before I can steal any more and then swipes two bourbons as well. I chuckle before realising that everyone is staring at us. My parents look amused, and Ruth sits regally, her gaze switching between the two of us. Finally, she offers what looks like a nod of approval. “You’ll begood for him, lass. He’s grown up getting his own way. Don’t let him push you around.”

Abby holds her fingertips to her mouth while she swallows and then smiles towards Ruth. “I won’t. I’ll keep him in line, I promise.”

I bump my shoulder into hers, but she doesn’t look at me.

“So, what do you want to know?” Ruth’s gaze is back on me now.

“I wondered if you knew how Gran came to own The Juniper? If you can cast any light on the family history associated with it?”

“Hmmm.” She settles back in her chair, her gaze on a Skye landscape painting above my head before moving across to Mum. “I don’t know the full story, but I was aware of some of the circumstances.”

“It’s okay, Auntie Ruth,” Mum tells her. “Cam showed me a letter that was with the building deeds. From a man called William?”

Ruth nods. “I remember him. Do you have the letter with you?”

“I do.” I take the folder from my side and pass it to her.

We all wait in silence while she reads it, reaching the end with another nod. Her eyes flick to the top, I presume to the date listed there. “Ah, I see. It’s the date that’s got your underwear in a bunch.” She purses her lips.

“It’s dated weeks after Mum and Dad’s wedding,” Mum says, her voice shaking.