“What’s the worst they can do?” she said.

“Just the idea that people hate it makes me sad. They could tear it down,” said Konstantin, frowning.

“I know.”

“I just wanted to do something nice. I thought it would be nice.”

“You don’t know who hates it.”

“All the powerful people who run everything,” said Konstantin, gloomily munching a sausage.

Isla plucked up the courage to ask, “And then . . . are you going back? With your dad?”

“Yes,” said Konstantin, and Isla’s heart dropped. “For a visit. Can you come? There’s no more meals till Hogmanae.”

“What?”

“I mean, we could go for a few days? I could show you around.”

“And then come back?”

“Well, for now, yes. I’ve got a job. I like it. I’m trying to get a girlfriend, although I will tell you up until now it is going very, very slowly.”

Isla smiled in delight. “And then what?”

Konstantin screwed up his face. “Come on. I’ve barely got my first job started, don’t ask me my five-year plan. Also, I’m in some danger of getting banished from here too. Two countries in one year would be quite good going, I think.”

“Even for a playboy.”

“Even for a playboy.”

Although in fact the papers, desperate for copy, were already running Candace’s glowing review of the beautiful Christmas lunch. Candace herself was staying on a couple of extra days; Fionn had promised to take her out on his boat and catch her a lobster, and she was absolutely feeling rather up for it.

At 9:45, they looked round the empty kitchen, then, nervously, headed toward the town hall. The angel towered above them, glinting in the sun. It was as beautiful as ever. But today the glow gave it a sinister cast, as if it knew it might have to come down.

Hand in hand, they walked to the doorway, where they saw the most amazing thing. They’d noticed a lot of people around the village but assumed everyone was heading for the Loony Dook at eleven. Many were carrying blankets and flasks, and Mrs. Brodie was rattling the tin for the school fund as usual.

But as they reached the door, they heard a great swell of people and a noise. “Now!” came a voice, and everyone took hands.

“What’s going on?” said Konstantin.

Malcy, arriving at the same time, looked around crossly. “What the hell is this?”

Right up the street from the town hall, leading to the statue, was a human chain: Billy from the airport, all the children more or less from the school, Lorna, and Giorgio, the pilot who had flown in to speak for all the pilots who loved it for navigation, with a message from the ship captains likewise.

The councilman harrumphed, following the other members in, including poor, slightly terrorized Marsali.

Then everyone from the chain came behind Konstantin and Isla and took up every single space in the hall.

“We are here to vote upon the removal of a nonplanning permission object on the island,” said Malcy. But every time he tried to get people to be quiet, they started up again, chanting, “Keep the angel! Keep the angel!”