Jack took my hand as we walked to the Lochside Welcome the following Friday night.

"I forgot to tell you," I said, pointing towards the Royal George as we left the house. "When Xavier and I were hauling Mhari's sorry carcass back to her flat last week, I spotted the Evil Twins at the George."

He screwed up his face, getting the reference straight away. "What, those witches from London?"

"Yes. Up to visit their investment, no doubt. Suggest other ways it can undermine the best pub in the village. Oh! And what was it you wanted to say to me, that message the other day?"

He'd been as good as his word last Saturday, turning up bang on the dot at 5pm. I'd been so overjoyed to see him I'd spent an hour babbling about my job—the trouble with working from home was the lack of chat—and then we'd shared a shower that turned X-rated in record time.

Retaining information demanded far more skills than I had these days.

By this point, we were at the pub door, nods and hellos from others going in. Jolene called out a cheery 'Hello!', rushing up as Jack opened the door. His fingers gripped mine and he whispered the words, "Tell you later."

"Is Ashley any better?" I asked. Jolene had finished the lunchtime shift last Saturday and Xavier begged her to come back that evening just in case Ashley was still in bed, which he was. Tonight, the man we spotted behind the bar looked as if it had taken every ounce of will power he possessed to drag him from there. Jolene took one look at him and vaulted over the gate across the bar. She rolled up her sleeves. "What do you want me to do?"

Jack nudged me. "I'll get drinks. Go sit down."

I parked myself at our usual table where Mhari waited, eyes flicking up quickly and then returning to her screen. She'd nabbed the best seat—a thickly-padded armchair. "Can I sit there?" I asked, pointing at it. "In deference to my pregnant status."

"No. You're only expectin'. No' ill. In the olden days, women used tae be out pickin' tatties right up until they gave birth. They'd just squat, pop one oot, swaddle it under their shawls and get back on wi' it."

I glared at her. She didn't shift, so I settled for kicking her chair as I took the stool opposite. Jack, a pint in hand and a soda and lime for me, returned from the bar, corners of his mouth twitching. I waited for him to forcibly shift Mhari. In vain.

"Please can we join your team?"

The woman I'd seen a week ago and mistaken for Katya. And that brief conversation I'd overheard and forgotten all about. Still here then. She stood in front of our table and smiled winningly. The man next to her pocketed his phone, his gaze appraising. If asked, I would have compared it to how a big cat eyes up a baby gazelle. His eyes swept over Jack several times, gaze finally lingering on his collar bone just visible above the open-necked shirt Jack wore.

Our team was one woman down, Jolene too busy pouring pints for demanding customers. Now I looked again, whoever the woman was did not resemble Katya that closely. Same height, hair colour and style but thinner. A few years younger than me, although Mr Predatory was older. Early 30s, maybe, tightly curled sandy hair that was starting to edge back from his forehead and dressed in chinos and a T-shirt I knew did not come from H&M. He said nothing, eyes fixed on Jack.

Duh, Gaby! When I'd overheard her the other week, I'd been convinced a film crew was about to descend on the village. And got totally excited by it. Then, I'd gone home, fallen fast asleep and forgotten about it until now.

"Awfy common, Gaby!" My mother-in-law's voice, the warning she'd given me some weeks ago. "For your heid tae turn tae mush in the early stages. Your body's busy makin' a human being. It's got nae time for thinkin'."

"I'm Tindra," Katya's not quite double said, her accent posh English. She stuck her hand out. "And this is Miles. We're visiting the area."

Mhari yanked her chair to the side and pulled up another one. "Oh, aye? What for? Are you tourists?"

A benefit of friendship with the unashamedly nosey one was that you got to be curious vicariously. Jack and I tipped our heads to the side, also waiting for the reply. I nudged his thigh with mine.

Tindra's accent... didn't lots of well-spoken, privately educated people work in TV/media? They were here because of Outlander for sure. Didn't Miles fascination with Jack prove it?

Tindra opened her mouth to say something, stopping when Miles put his hand on top of her arm. "Scotland's wonderful, isn't it?" he cut in. "Particularly the Highlands. An old school friend of mine told me we should visit Lochalshie."

"Who?" Mhari scanned the pub as if picking out prospective friends of Miles. "I dinnae see anyone in here who looks like a friend o' yours."

I tittered nervously. Our straight-talking friend sometimes came across as... outright rude and tactless. Who liked confrontation? Not me.

Miles gave another half-smile and a shrug, apparently unbothered. "I'm amazed at how beautiful the scenery is. We caught the sunrise this morning above the loch. Incredible."

"What friend?"

Next to me, Jack's thigh pressed back against mine. I didn't dare look at him for fear giggles might start up. Those who hadn't met Mhari often underestimated how difficult she was to put off.

Jolene weaved her way towards us, pizza and a bowl of chips balanced on either hand. Silence as she put down the food and a welcome break from the Miles-Mhari stand-off. He turned towards Jolene. "Oh—can we try the food? I don't suppose you have anything for vegans...?"

Jolene rolled her eyes. "Yes, mate. There's a vegan pizza? Roasted veggies and cashew nut cheese. The Lochside Welcome is the number one spot for vegan pizzas here?"

The only place, more like.

"Ah! Well, we'll have that. One 12-inch should be enough for the two of us, Tindra?"

It wasn't a question. Tindra looked as if she wanted to object. Order taken, Jolene retreated.

"Who's your friend?" Mhari, who ignored my hand slap when she reached for one of my fries, managing to snatch the prize few that were most covered in cheese. "You havenae told me yet."

The man took a fortifying gulp of his craft beer. "You won't know him. He doesn't live here. He visited some time ago."

Mhari helped herself to more of my chips. I gave in, mindful of what had happened last week.

"When? And why did he like it so much?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Mhari, the sign at the entry to the village says, 'Welcome to Lochalshie'. Maybe ease off the interrogation?"

Miles sent him a grateful smile. His eyes lingered on my husband. If I were to guess his thoughts, I'd go with, yum yum yum. Was he attracted to Jack? I wouldn't blame him. Tonight, Jack's newly washed hair gleamed as locks of it caught the overhead lights and the firelight next to us picked out the planes of his face. He got stared at a lot. Luckily for me, he either didn't notice it or didn't allow the constant adulation to make him big-headed.

Mhari muttered something indistinct and picked up her phone. If software existed that allowed a person to take a discreet picture of a stranger, upload it and then find out all their deepest, darkest secrets, Mhari would know about and use it.

Jolene returned with the vegan pizza. Its size pathetically small next to the one I had. Tindra noticed the discrepancy too, eyes darting from their pizza to mine. I pushed the remains of my chips towards her. I'd read about boyfriends who policed their girlfriends' food portions. Domestic abuse in my book. She picked up one, bit it and closed her eyes briefly. My internal promise to her: I'll do my best to leave you some of my pizza but don't bet on it.

"How are your general knowledge skills?" Jack asked. "Seeing as you're now part of our pub quiz team. Gaby here is our celebrity gossip specialist, as is Mhari. I'm history, geography and sport. There are a lot of gaps."

Miles finished his slice of pizza and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. "Music, TV and films."

"Books," Tindra piped up. We were covered then. And their knowledge further proof that my theory was right. A TV crew, here in the village to check out Outlander filming potential. Sworn to secrecy by the boss.

Big Donnie tapped his gavel on the bar counter.

"Silence please, ladies and gentlemen! Mhari Colquhoun—come here at once and hand your phone over." She grumbled but got up, disposing her mobile in the glass bowl sat on the bar used to stop people googling the answers. Big Donnie waited until she returned to her seat. "We'll begin with the sports round."

Time to regain our pub quiz honour.