Perhaps, whatever it was, I would be able to get to the bottom of it with Rhiannon.

The school run back to Heatherbrae took longer than the previous morning, because there was a van on the road ahead of me. I followed it slowly from Carn Bridge, tapping gingerly at the accelerator, sure that it would turn off at every junction we came to, but inexplicably it seemed to be going the same way, even as the road narrowed and grew more rural. It was with some relief that I realized we were nearly at the turn off to Heatherbrae House, and I was just about to signal left when the van signaled too, and drew up over the drive, forcing me to stamp on the brakes.

As I waited, the Tesla silently idling, the passenger door opened and a girl jumped out, a rucksack on her shoulder. She said something to the driver, and the back door of the van popped open. She dragged a huge case out, thumping it carelessly onto the gravel, and then slammed the door and stepped back as the driver pulled away from the curb. I was just about to lean out and ask her who she was and what she was doing in the middle of nowhere when she pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up to the proximity sensor of the gates, and they swung open.

It couldn’t be Rhiannon, surely—she wasn’t due back until the afternoon, and that disreputable van certainly didn’t look like it belonged to anyone’s mother. Was it someone who worked here? But in that case, why the huge trunk?

I waited a few minutes for her to clear the gates, and then pressed on the accelerator. The Tesla slid smoothly up the drive, behind the girl, who turned, with a look of surprise on her face. However, instead of moving out of the way she stood her ground, hands on her hips, and the huge case at her feet. I braked again, feeling the gravel scrunch beneath the tires, and wound down the window.

“Can I help you?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” the girl said. She had long blond hair, and a clipped expensive accent, without a trace of Scots in it. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my parents’ car?”

So it was Rhiannon.

“Oh, hello, you must be Rhiannon. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you back for another few hours. I’m Rowan.”

The girl was still looking at me blankly, and I added, beginning to feel a little impatient, “The new nanny? I thought your mum told you.”

It seemed stupid to be carrying on this conversation through a car window, so I put the car into park and got out, holding out my hand.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry not to be expecting you, your mum said you wouldn’t be here until twelve.”

“Rowan? But you’re—” the girl began, a furrow between her narrow brows; then something cleared and she shook her head. There was a smile on her lips, and it was not a very nice one. “Never mind.”

“I’m what?” I dropped my hand.

“I said, never mind,” Rhiannon said. “And don’t pay any attention to what my mum told you, she hasn’t got a fucking clue which way is up. As you may have already realized.” She looked me up and down, and then said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“What?”

“Give me a hand with my case.”

I was getting more and more irritated, but there was no point in starting off on the wrong foot, so I swallowed my anger and wheeled the case around to the back of the Tesla. It was even heavier than it looked. Rhiannon didn’t wait for me to load it up, but climbed into the back seat, beside Petra.

“Hello, brat,” she said, though there was an undertone of affection in her voice that had been notably absent when she spoke to me. And then, to me, as I slid into the driver’s seat, “Well, let’s not sit here all day admiring the view.”

I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, and pressed down so hard on the accelerator that gravel spat from behind the wheels as we began to move up the drive towards Heatherbrae House.

* * *

Inside the house Rhiannon stalked into the kitchen, leaving me to unload both Petra and the huge heavy trunk. When I finally made it inside, Petra in tow, I saw that Rhiannon had already installed herself at the metal breakfast bar and was eating a giant sandwich she had clearly just put together.

“Sooooo,” her voice came out like a drawl. “You’re Rowan, are you? I must say, you don’t look anything like what I was expecting.”

I frowned. There was something a little malicious in her voice, and I wondered what exactly she meant.

“What were you expecting?”

“Oh . . . I don’t know. Just someone . . . different. You don’t look like a Rowan, somehow.” She grinned, and then before I could react, took another bite of sandwich and said, thickly, through the mouthful, “You need to put more mayonnaise on the fridge order. Oh, and where the hell are the dogs?”

I blinked. I felt like it should be me asking the questions, grilling her. Why did I always seem to be on the wrong end of a power struggle? But it was a perfectly reasonable question, so I tried to keep my voice even as I answered it.

“Jack was called away to take some paperwork to your dad. He took the dogs with him—he thought they’d enjoy the trip.”

That hadn’t been what he’d said at all, but somehow I didn’t want to admit to this haughty teenager that I hadn’t felt equal to the task of wrangling three small children and two Labradors.

“When’s he back?”

“Jack? I don’t know. Today, I imagine.”

Rhiannon nodded, chewing thoughtfully, and then said, around a mouthful of food, “By the way, it’s Elise’s birthday tonight and her mum’s invited me over for a sleepover. Is that okay?”

There was something in her tone that made it clear that I was being asked only as a formality, but I nodded.

“I’d better text your mum and check, but of course, that’s fine by me. Where does she live?”

“Pitlochry. It’s about an hour’s drive, but Elise’s brother will give me a lift.”

I nodded, pulled out my phone, and texted a quick message to Sandra.

Rhiannon safely back—wants to go to a sleepover with Elise tonight. Assume that’s okay but please confirm.

The message pinged back almost straightaway.

No problem. Will call 6pm. Give my love to Rhi.

“Your mum sends love and says it’s fine,” I reported back to Rhiannon, who rolled her eyes as if to say, Well, duh. “What time are you getting picked up?”

“After lunch,” Rhiannon said. She swung her legs over the side of the stool and shoved the dirty plate across the counter, towards me. “Laters.”

I watched her as she made her way up the stairs, long legs in school uniform stalking up the graceful curve of the staircase, and then disappearing around the bend.

* * *

She did not come down for lunch. I wasn’t particularly surprised, given the sandwich she’d eaten a couple of hours before, but since I was making lunch for me and Petra, I felt like should at least ask if she wanted to join us. I tried to speak to her using the intercom function, but it refused to connect. Instead, a message pinged back via the app. NOT HUNGRY. Huh. I hadn’t even known it could do that.

OKAY, I messaged back. As I was putting my phone away, another thought occurred to me, and I pulled it back out of my pocket and reopened the Happy app. Feeling a little queasy, I clicked on the menu that showed the list of cameras available for me to access. As I scrolled down the list to R, I told myself I wouldn’t look, but at least that way I would know . . . but when I got down there, Rhiannon’s room was grayed out and unavailable, which was mostly a relief. There would have been something inexpressibly inappropriate about cameras in a fourteen-year-old girl’s bedroom.