They timed each other, sailing back and forth to Cwen. Eva preferred rowing. It was simpler. But they both became quite good at sailing. They kept the boat and its dinghy in a noost on the eastern beach, behind the house. They would go out on a Sunday afternoon, and return that evening wet through, despite the oilskins, hair splattered on to their foreheads, determination on their faces. They laughed at each other.

‘Awful, isn’t it,’ Inga said to Eva.

‘Awful but necessary,’ said Eva.

Each time, Inga liked it more. The inversion of the usual paradigm of things. Being in another element; manipulating that other element with forethought and skill. According to the internet, humans are mostly water. That’s how it felt, anyway, out there in the cove: going home. And she liked the slightly rocky feeling that stayed with her on dry land, sometimes for days afterwards; unstable, as after an orgasm or two. By this time Inga had been leader of the council for five years. She knew she didn’t have long.

INGA: That’s why I just don’t believe it – she knew what she was doing on the water. She would never have gone out in that weather. There’s something we’re not seeing.

After becoming convenor, Inga moved to a new-build flat in Ayrness, overlooking the abbey. She liked clean, simple lines. (A small logistics company in Berwick shipped IKEA to the islands.) The only colour was provided by her growing wardrobe – the splosh of a claret winter coat over the sofa, the shudder of an oak-green shift dress hanging in the bathroom. Her aged parents lived on Astrid and seldom came to visit, partly because she went out to see them once a week.

Her current lover was Rowan Thompson, who taught at Ayrness High. They lived together but couldn’t walk along the street hand in hand. Not really. The archipelago wasn’t the kind of place you could do that. Not if Inga wanted to remain in charge at the council. As a result, things weren’t that great between them at the moment. They hardly ever made love any more. But at least they were aligned, politically.

COLIN: Inga Stenbridge did not hide the fact that she was a lesbian. But then she began living with a woman, a teacher at the high school, and that upset some islanders and their councillors. It’s one thing in the city, where nobody knows each other. But here in the islands, it’s very unwise for a professional person in the public eye to disrespect the views of the people they represent.

JUDGE: [Pause] Mr Grieves, you moved from the paper, edited by Ursula King, to the council, run by Inga Stenbridge. Would you say that you began to resent the proliferation of women in positions of power?