"Well, we were friends, yes, that was all. I thought you meant, were we having an affair?"

"Och, no," said Hamish soothingly. "Don't you find it lonely here?"

"No, I enjoy the peace of the countryside."

"Do your parents support you?"

"I haven't seen my parents for a year. They're in Somerset."

"So what do you do for money?"

"I'm on the dole."

"I thought these days you had to get a job."

"I'm a poet. There are no jobs for poets."

"Neffer were, neffer will be," said Hamish comfortably. "Even Chaucer had a job."

"There are not many jobs to be had in Strathbane that are suitable. I report every fortnight to the dole office to tell them I am still looking for work. What's it to you?"

"Curious, that's all. Was Tommy religious?"

"Like me, he led a spiritual life."

"Whateffer that means. Did he go to church?"

"I really don't know," she said, half turning away.

"You mean he didn't say anything on Sunday like, Tm off to the kirk'?"

"We didn't live in each other's pockets. We respected each other's space. Now, if that is all…"

"Did he show you any of the book he was writing?"

She began to take carrots out of the vegetable basket and, turning on the cold tap, washed them.

"He said he would show it to me when he was finished."

"And how much had he written?"

"How should I know?" she suddenly shouted. "Am I under suspicion of anything?"

Hamish decided it was strategic to beat a hasty retreat before she threatened to report him to his superiors.

"I really chust called by to see that you were okay," he said.

"I am. So goodbye."

Hamish walked outside, looked around and wondered what to do next.

Then he decided to drive to Strathbane. He could take Jimmy Anderson out for a drink, if he wasn't out on some job. It was easy to get information out of Jimmy over a glass of whisky-provided Jimmy wasn't paying.