‘I don’t think many detective inspectors grew up in that sort of family,’ he said. ‘Didn’t hippies believe they were outside the law?’

‘Oh, we had our own rules,’ she said. ‘Everything discussed at length at interminable community meetings. No meat. No TV. All our income pooled, for the good of the commune. Children were to be cared for in common. And strangers were to be made welcome.’ The last phrase came out in a hard and bitter voice.

‘What happened?’

‘One of the strangers betrayed us,’ she said. ‘Stole all our money.’ Sandy waited for her to go on, but she stared out of the window into the grey rain and said nothing.

At last she turned back into the car. ‘So you can imagine what it was like growing up there,’ she said. ‘We went to the local school and got teased for being the hippy kids. We wore weird home-made clothes. No leather shoes, naturally. We had no Gaelic of course, no real island culture. The adults tried to learn, but the islanders didn’t make it easy for them to join in. In the end we were isolated and it felt like it was us against the world. I left for university, wanting to be like everyone else, but some of the old commune values stuck.’ She laughed. ‘I’m a veggie to this day. Do yoga. Meditate.’

‘Are your folks still there?’ Sandy asked.

‘Oh yes, they’ll be there forever now, milking their goats and saving the planet. How can they admit to themselves that they made a mistake? It would be as if they’ve wasted the last thirty years.’

He would have liked to ask how often she went to visit, but by now they were nearly at Sullom Voe, and anyway he sensed that she regretted having brought up her family for discussion.

The cloud was even lower. They passed the stuffed figures of the couple in their wedding outfits, and Sandy was driving so slowly that he could see that the photos covering the faces were those of John Henderson and Evie Watt. It seemed a strangely frivolous thing for Henderson to agree to. Even if Evie’s mates had created the figures in the run-up to her hen night, he could have made her take them away now. Perhaps he had a sense of humour after all.

‘What do you want to do?’ He found that his attitude to Willow had changed since he’d found out that she’d grown up in a commune and that he regarded her with something like suspicion. Then he heard Jimmy Perez’s voice in his head. That’s ridiculous, Sandy Wilson, and you know it. He tried to make his voice warmer. ‘Should I turn round and drive back more slowly? You can shout if you want me to stop.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Do just that.’ Then, with a smile: ‘I suppose you think I’m daft.’