But Isla and Konstantin only had eyes for each other. They came toward each other and stopped just as he was about to grasp her hands, both giggly, each pink from rushed showers, the wintry chill, the excitement.

“Uhm, hello,” said Konstantin, his eyes dancing. He glanced toward the bar, and winking broadly, Inge-Britt went to the slightly iced-up freezer and removed one of Mure’s very few bottles of actual vintage champagne. Isla’s eyes widened.

“How can you afford . . .”

“I have saved all my pot-boy wages,” said Konstantin, shushing her, “and this is the only thing I could find to buy on the entire island.”

He ushered her to the corner table, specially wiped down for the occasion with an almost new cloth, and Inge-Britt, smirking only very slightly, which was good of her under the circumstances, brought over the bottle and two glasses with some ceremony.

Konstantin was used to being watched pretty much everywhere he went, so he was completely oblivious to Isla’s blushing awkwardness, but once they’d had a little fizz, everything seemed to settle down, and they were in the very darkest corner of the room, and finally they could talk.

“What’s happening with the statue?” asked Isla anxiously. She’d passed it on the way down and thought it beautiful as ever.

“I don’t know,” said Konstantin, pensive. “The council is really cross, I don’t know why.”

“But people will come to see it! It’ll be like the Angel of the North!”

“I think so. I think they’re just cross we didn’t ask them first and it didn’t take five and a half years to get through nine committees and we didn’t have a big ceremony and let them all make a very boring speech each.”

Isla thought for a moment. “Well, couldn’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t you name it after them?”

Konstantin blinked.

“You could call it the Malcom Marsali Aoghas Fraser William Bert Effie Angel,” said Isla, tidily ticking off the committee members on her hand. “Put Malcy at the front; he’s the biggest arsehole so he’s the most likely to be happy if he’s first. And let them all make a speech. Isn’t that how Joel got it through in the first place?”

She smiled suddenly.

“They could do it at the Loony Dook!”

“In front of everyone naked?”

“They’re not going to be naked, Konstantin! That’s your stupid country! Here everyone is wearing swimming trunks.”

“Getting in the sea wearing wet clothing on a winter’s day is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” grumbled Konstantin.

“No, you’re right, nothing better on a small island than everyone being familiar with everyone else’s genitals,” said Isla, rolling her eyes. “Trunks are fine.”

Konstantin looked pensive. “Well . . . I mean . . . it might be worth a shot . . .”

“Have a grand opening. They’ll have to make the speeches short, otherwise everyone will freeze to death.”

Konstantin grinned. “Actually, Joel wants me to meet them all. That might not be a bad idea.”