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“They’ve not really moved in together,” I protest. “They’re just staying with Elspeth for now.” But even I can hear what a shallow objection this is.

Shit. Even if marriage isn’t on the cards yet, it probably will be at some point, and that terrifies me.

I check the clock. The restaurant doesn’t open for dinner for another few hours.

“I’m going to the gym,” I say. “Seeing as the snug is quiet, you can keep an eye on it and reception.”

I head up to my room to get my things. While throwing a T-shirt and shorts into a bag, I can’t resist glancing out my window and there she is, in the house opposite. She and Richard are unpacking.

Growing up, Iona and I would wave at each other through our windows or fix messages to them. Every year on my birthday, I’d leap out of bed and yank open my curtains to see what poster she’d designed for me—she always worked so hard on it.

As I reminisce, Iona turns and catches me looking. I raise a hand in greeting but she frowns.

Shit. Gone are the days of innocently communicating with each other from our bedrooms. Now she probably just thinks I’m a creep.

I throw my bag over my shoulder, go down to the car, then set off for the Glen Garve Resort, a much larger hotel situated in extensive grounds a short distance from Bannock. Technically a competitor of our own family-run business, it has fantastic leisure facilities, and although they’re mainly intended for the resort’s guests, there are membership options for locals. I’m a frequent visitor to the gym—it’s my sanctuary, a place I can lose myself.

After my warm-up, I head for the squat rack, select a barbell, and load it with plates. I position the bar across my shoulders, take a few deep breaths, then begin my first set of squats.

I never put in earphones while lifting. Instead, I focus on my breathing, which gets heavier as I work up a sweat. Normally, I find peace in the exertion and enter an almost meditative state. Today, though, I can’t chase thoughts of Iona from my mind.

When we were younger, we’d spend all day together, never tiring of each other. We’d share everything—there was nothing I didn’t know about her, nor she about me. We haven’t been like that for so long. Not since—

No, it’s too painful to think about that, even after all these years. I was such a fool back then.

After my squats, I move on to lunges, thoughts of Iona still lingering. Now she’s returned to Bannock, I’ll constantly be reminded of what I did, and that’s going to be torture. To make life bearable, I have to patch things up with her.

There’s no chance of anything romantic between us—I’ve come to terms with that, even though Iona is the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted. But maybe, just maybe, I can win her back as a friend.

The least I can do is try.

CHAPTER FOUR

IONA

First day on the job and where do I end up? Mr Murray’s farm. The same Mr Murray whose pigs I attempted to free when I was eleven.

Still, it’s been sixteen years. I doubt he’ll even remember.

I step out of my car and breathe in the country air—so much fresher than in the city.

“Look who it is!” Mr Murray strides over, his hair more salt than pepper now, although he remains as strong and sturdy as ever. “Are you here to examine my livestock or to plot another jailbreak?”

Okay, so he does remember. His tone may be playful, but my cheeks heat all the same.

“Hello, Mr Murray. And no, I won’t be opening any gates today unless you tell me to.” Already I feel like a little girl rather than a confident professional woman.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “Call me Fergus. If you don’t mind me saying, isn’t a farm vet an odd career choice for a vegetarian?”

“Ah, my vegetarian phase only lasted a few months,” I admit sheepishly. “And actually, I’ve got you to thank—or to blame—for my career path. Remember how you made me and Lewis help around the farm as a punishment for the Great Pig Escape? We stayed a lot longer than the hour you sentenced us to because we loved it. I reckon that experience sparked an interest in farm life.”

“Huh, well I never. All right, let’s see how you get on with the cows. I’m hoping a significant number of them are expecting this year.”

I’m pretty sure I impressed Fergus with my skill at rectal palpation. After all, who wouldn’t be impressed by the sight of me with an arm up a cow’s backside?

We parted ways on good terms, my act of childhood rebellion now water under the bridge. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing he remembered anyway. When I was younger, most folk in Bannock saw me as the perpetual goody-goody who never put a foot wrong. In the years I’ve been away, I doubt their opinion of me has changed much. At least Fergus knows there’s more to me than that. I’m a girl who’s not afraid to break the rules (or to shove my hand up a cow’s arse).

I’m back at the practice now, sorting through a bit of admin work and familiarising myself with my new surroundings. As I’m typing up some case notes, Claire, our receptionist, peeks her head around the door.