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that Kate
found herself pouring out the whole story. How she’d met Ian at university and how his solid, comfortable nature had made her feel safe. How they’d ended up moving in together, not
because it was romantic, but because Ian had been offered a job in Kate’s home town of Cambridge and it seemed sensible. How being sensible had driven Kate slightly mad, and she’d found
herself wanting to scream. How she’d ended up feeling trapped and lonely and unsure. How she was determined to spend time on the island trying to work out who she was, without the influence
of a man. How she was looking forward to being single and living alone.
    Morag listened intently, elbows on the table, silently topping up Kate’s mug with tea, watching as the girl’s breakfast grew cold.
    ‘So here I am. I have three days a week to be a Girl Friday, although I still don’t really know what that means, and the rest of the time I’m going to just be. That probably
sounds a bit selfish, doesn’t it?’ Kate looked down at her breakfast. ‘I’m sorry. You must think me very rude and self-obsessed. Your lovely cooking . . . ’
    Morag scooped up the plate. ‘Five minutes in here,’ she said, popping it into the bottom oven of the Aga, ‘and it’ll be as right as rain. And no, I don’t think
you’re any of those things. I think you’re very sensible.’
    Morag sat down on the bench beside Kate, putting her hand on her arm and giving it a squeeze. Kate felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears.
    ‘You’re not the first person to find yourself drawn to Auchenmor. I think there’s a wee bit of magic about this place. And, after thirty years of marriage, I can tell you that
the first thing you need to do before you think about finding someone else is to work out who you are.’
    ‘Is that what you did?’ Kate wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
    Morag smiled: a small, wry, remembering smile. ‘Oh, you don’t want to go listening to me. I did it all the wrong way round. I wouldn’t recommend doing it my way.’
    There was a tale there, but not one for today. Morag took her hand from Kate’s arm with a final reassuring squeeze. She retrieved the breakfast from the warming oven, and the conversation
turned to island life, Highland ponies and Kate’s plans to redecorate the cottage. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours ago she’d been setting off from Cambridge.
    An hour later, and clad in a pair of spare wellington boots and a padded coat (‘I keep them here for Anna, my daughter-in-law, not that they get up here all that often,’ Morag had
explained, giving Kate a pile of thick jumpers, and a fruit cake at the same time), Kate returned to her cottage. Dropping off her gifts, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, then locked the
door of the cottage behind her. A strong wind had blown up out of nowhere, and she could hear the waves crashing down on the shore. She scrunched along the gravel pathway through the trees and down
to have a look.
    She could see something moving on the rocks as she walked closer. Slowing down, she realized it was a group of seals. They were staring at her with mild curiosity, but not
making any attempts to move.
    ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’
    The voice behind her took her by surprise and she shrieked, jumping into the air.
    As one, the seals plopped into the water, startled by the sudden sound.
    Kate spun round.
    ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a fright,’ said an impossibly gorgeous specimen of gorgeousness. Oops, thought Kate. Still, no harm in looking.
    ‘Tom MacKelvie.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m the gamekeeper here at Duntarvie.’
    Trying not to blush furiously at thoughts of Mellors, which were racing through her mind, Kate shook his hand.
    ‘And yes, I’ve heard all the jokes about Lady Chatterley’s lover,’ Tom winked. ‘Fortunately for me, there isn’t a lady of the house and, no matter how many
times he asks, I’ve told Roderick he’s not my