The following morning, they set out for the ferry. ‘The weather is perfect for this,’ said Salma, and the others were encouraged by the fresh sudden sunshine after the previous day’s rain. They needed to find Mullin so that he could ferry them to the car. With the car, Salma would drive for an hour to Glencarron in Wester Ross. In Craig, they would come to a private crossing where she would need permission to cross the railway line. According to Salma’s research, there would be a telephone at the level crossing, she would need to pick it up and hear when the next train was coming. Only then would it be safe to drive across. After that was a two-mile drive into the hills, then she would park the car near a hydroelectric turbine. Beyond the two miles, the road was impassable for an ordinary car; only a 4×4 could manage the rocky bumpy path. They would need to leave the car and walk the rest of the way to Lady Evelyn’s grave.

Mullin was painting a fence that led down to the boathouse. He shook his head at their request. ‘It’s the stalkin’ season. Ye canna drive into the estate,’ he said. ‘No permission.’

The three of them stared at him. Iman did not understand the word ‘stalking’; Salma and Moni could not understand why it would present an obstacle.

Because it was Iman who needed the explanation, Mullin was happy to oblige. This time of year, he explained, gentlemen and ladies came from England and further to hunt the red deer of the Highlands. This was not only a fashionable sport but a necessity to prevent overpopulation and maintain stocks at a stable level that was healthy for farming and the environment. Only the defective deer were culled; those with uneven antlers, those who were old or weak.

‘This has nothing to do with us,’ said Salma, impatient to get going. Her natural inclination was to dismiss objections, belittle obstacles. ‘We just want to visit the grave.’

‘The car would faze the deer,’ he said. ‘They feel the slightest sounds, e’en a loose stone. They can see black and white too.’ He stared at Moni. She was the one dressed in black.

Frustration made Salma’s body rigid. The fear of failure. They would be right after all, the others in the Muslim Women’s Group who had stayed behind. Visiting the grave was difficult, they had said, it was remote, inaccessible. But she must prove them wrong, she had come this far and would not give up. Her voice rose, ‘We have the right to walk the hills, ramblers’ rights.’ This man might think her foreign and ignorant, but she knew about the Scottish Outdoor Access Code.

Mullin shrugged. ‘If youse insist on going, it canna be with the car. You’d need to park in the Achnashellach Forest car park ower frae the level crossing, cross the train line by foot and then walk six miles intae Glenuaig.’