Oh, she was such an idiot. He was slumming it. Literally flirting with her because she was standing right next to him; he couldn’t even be bothered to take a look around the island. She was right there, she would do. Her face flamed brighter than ever as she remembered the pictures of Norwegian supermodels and actresses and of him at premieres and parties. Oh God, how could she have been so dumb?

As if. As if she would ever have been more than a plaything for someone like him. And worse than that, he was obviously horrible. Imagine being sent away by your own father. She thought back to her fight with her mother. Oh God. Everything was so awful.

Oh God. And she had been about to . . . Her blood ran cold. Would he have made fun of her with all his rich Norwegian friends when he went home?

So much made sense now. His lack of phone. His patently de cent clothes. The way he had absolutely no idea of the value of money. Even the stupid bottle of champagne, now sitting nearly empty on the corner table.

Iona didn’t even pause; she took her straight to her house and opened up a bottle of whisky.

Chapter 62

L orna sat by herself, staring at the box and wondering whether to wrap it. She was going to the MacKenzies’ on Christmas Day, so she had a massive pile there, including far too much for Agot, as usual, even though she knew fine well spoiling her didn’t help.

But she had one gift—very small, something easily concealed, nothing anyone would ask about. She had hemmed and hawed and wondered about it, but in the end had decided what now did she possibly have to lose?

They hadn’t been in contact at all, and she had absolutely no idea what was going on with him, but the boys, she noticed with some satisfaction, seemed happy and well, hadn’t become withdrawn or difficult. Ash was looking forward to Christmas as much as any of them; Ib was still out there in the most freezing weather kicking a ball at playtime with his chums. If there had been some major upset at home, she’d have seen it through the behavior of the children. Teachers always did. So nothing had changed. Yet.

She wanted to take him a gift. But she knew she shouldn’t. If he was free she’d have seen him.

She walked out into the swirling snow, past the Mure Angel. Looking at it made her smile. It was amazing how quickly it had become part of the landscape. She rather loved it. It gave her light and courage somehow, and suddenly, feeling the parcel in her pocket, she became emboldened. She would take it to him. She made a mental note also to turn up to the emergency council meeting on Boxing Day, make sure to add her voice to the people who wanted to keep it.