His father took as his text Galatians 5:22 on the fruits of the spirit. At first Perez let the words wash over him. He was still thinking about the double murder, looking for connections between the women. He’d assumed at the beginning that Jane’s death had come as a direct result of Angela’s but it wouldn’t do to close his mind to other possibilities, to dismiss altogether an irrational killer targeting women. The team in Lerwick should do a more detailed check on the North Light visitors and staff. Were there unsolved crimes of violence against women in the areas where the incomers lived? He felt in his jacket pocket for a pen, so he could jot down a few notes.

Then the meaning of his father’s sermon seeped into his consciousness. Perez set down the pen and the scrap of paper and began to listen more carefully. As he laid the pen on the narrow shelf built into the seat in front of him he saw his hand was trembling. Anger. It was all he could do not to walk out.

James had moved on to talk about self-control. One of the fruits of the spirit. It might be the last in the list but it was by no means the least important. James leaned forward and repeated the words for emphasis: ‘By no means.’ He turned over a sheet of paper on the lectern. James took his preaching seriously; he always made notes.

‘In Proverbs, we learn that controlling one’s own passions is harder than conquering a walled city fortress. A man must have mastery over his own behaviour. If he can’t control himself, he’d be like the city after its walls are destroyed. Defenceless.’ The last word came out in a thundering roar, but seemed to have little impact on the audience and James sought to find an image closer to home. ‘Think how it would be if you were out in a small, flimsy kind of boat in the gale we’ve had in the last couple of days. Bad enough in something like the Shepherd, which is built for the job. But imagine one of those small dinghies the bairns play in close to shore in the mainland on summer days. And a force ten wind battering into the hull. You’d be drowned by the waves. Lost.’ The audience nodded then in understanding and looked at their watches. Fifteen minutes. Big James never went on for much longer than that. And it seemed he was coming to a close: ‘Without self-control the other fruits of the spirit would be impossible. Kindness, gentleness, patience and peace. All those would be swept away and drowned by selfish desires and emotions.’