Lucette, who was proud of her appearance, was also used to opprobrium. At the inquiry she relished the opportunity to speak in defence of her friend. She told the judge that Eva’s support for her ‘never once wavered’. Jen, too, was a forceful presence. As she told Inga and the others, ‘I’m not classically beautiful by any means, thank God. Breasts too large, voice too loud, for the Classics.’

‘But you’re photogenic,’ said Inga. Not everyone has that photo-telly thing. Jen does.

Where Eva was elegant, neat, precise, Jen is rowdy, energetic, fun. She always wears impractical high-heeled boots, and scarves as bright as sweeties; her earrings jangle as she speaks. She wafts the same perfume wherever she goes, depositing it on hand towels, hands and cheeks. She usually arrived at Eva’s house, where they held all their early meetings, bearing a funny story of some incompetent student, or man – she was indiscreet like that. She let herself be intimidated by no one.

Jen was also sociable; popular in the islands. Although she didn’t care for cooking, she frequently invited friends over for pasta – she bought, in bulk, the Lerston delicatessen’s mediocre pesto – and her very nice husband Alan could normally be prevailed upon to produce a roast chicken dinner, or a reasonable summer barbeque of sausages and burgers. She always had ice cream in the large chest freezer, always bags of ice for drinks, always wine and lager, always a bottle of archipelago whisky. With the work she was doing, it was important that nothing should be wanting.

As soon as the inquiry began, both Inga and Jen were offered police protection. Both have had death threats and rape proposals; had rotten eggs thrown at their cars. A child put a dead rat in Jen’s daughter’s school locker. Jen’s husband had a pint of Eilean-nam-Ban tipped over him in the Hope and Anchor. On the days she gave evidence, Jen was met by protesters holding up SAVE SÌNE posters.

JUDGE: You first met Eva Harcourt-Vane when she offered you a job.

JEN: That’s right.

By the time Zoe was born, Eva had been teaching for some years at the archipelago’s college. By the time Harry died, she had been given the job of deputy principal. The promotion meant that her place of work changed from the modern (1970s) purpose-built campus halfway up the hill out of town, to an austere Victorian building which had once been a brewery and loomed over the seafront in Ayrness.