His last call was to Fran. In Springfield, Radio 4 was playing in the background. He recognized Kate Adie and From Our Own Correspondent. That would be something else she and Mary would have in common. Both women had it on all day, a background to their work.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He realized he’d repeated almost exactly the words and the inflexion of Poppy’s words to him. ‘I didn’t bring you all the way to Fair Isle just to abandon you.’

‘It’s work. Nothing you could do.’

‘What have you been up to?’ At home she could occupy herself for hours on her own with her drawing and her painting. She had a concentration that he found enviable. He was too easily distracted. But he didn’t think she’d be able to work with his parents around; Mary would want to chat and be full of questions. Perhaps that’s where my curiosity comes from, he thought. I’m nosy, just like my mother.

‘I asked Mary to teach me to use the knitting machine. I’ve always wanted to learn. It’s not nearly as easy as it looks.’ She laughed.

Suddenly he felt as if he was as far away from her as when she was visiting her parents in London and he was left behind in Lerwick. It was hard to believe they were only separated by a couple of miles.

‘I’ll make sure I’m home for supper,’ he said.

‘Will it all be over by then?’

‘I don’t know. It seemed very simple. Now I’m not sure.’

Chapter Nine

Jane heard Perez talking in the common room while she was laying the tables for lunch. Despite herself she tried to hear what he was saying, but she couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t even tell to whom he was talking. She thought she would have to tell him about that last conversation with Angela. In a place like this, there were no secrets. Someone would inform Perez that Angela had threatened not to renew her contract: Maurice, for example, would say anything to protect his daughter. It was best coming from Jane herself.

The smell of baking bread seeped out of the kitchen, reassuringly normal. Lunch would be soup and rolls, oatcakes and cheese, scones and cakes. Today they needed comfort food. It was eleven thirty. There was time to talk to Perez before she had to serve it. She tapped on the common-room door and looked inside. Perez was on his own, his mobile in his hand. He’d finished the conversation and seemed preoccupied. She followed his gaze out of the window. It was more exposed here, north facing, and the sound of the storm was louder.

‘I wondered if I could talk to you. It’s about Angela.’

‘Of course.’ It seemed something of an effort for him to drag his thoughts back to the present. ‘Could we sit somewhere with a bit of privacy?’

She hesitated. ‘We could use my room, I suppose. It’s a bit cramped but nobody will disturb us.’ She never invited anyone into her room, was shocked that she’d been the one to suggest it.