‘Except the Lord build the house: their labour is but lost that build it…’ These were his words as he came in; he had skipped all pleasantries to launch into a prayer of sorts.

A circle formed automatically; heads bowed.

This was the psalm about children being a gift, how they are like arrows in the hands of giants; a man should make sure he had a quiver full of them. The Lord had not blessed Jacob and Diana Crane with their own children; the pupils were his young. He was father to the whole island.

Mr Crane gave a glory-be. The staff gave their amen. Then he delivered his pronouncement: ‘Jade-Marie Ahearn, Anna Duchamp and Britta Sayers –’ he had never been one to use their collective moniker ‘– are subject to a strict curfew from this moment onwards. They are to go straight back to their individual homes after school each day. If they are seen idling, congregating or taking any kind of circuitous route, they are to be challenged immediately and the matter is to be reported directly to me. Is that understood?’

‘Yes,’ murmured the staff. Another amen.

‘I consider it part of your duties to enforce this matter even after the last bell has rung.’

‘Yes,’ they murmured again.

Amen, amen.

Were any glances exchanged – between the coycrock teacher and his sweetheart, perhaps? If so, it was done with great stealth.

It was the three mothers who had demanded action, it was said. They had implored Mr Crane to intervene. The heart was proof that someone was harassing their daughters at the stones, leading them to darker places. None of the girls, not even the red-haired newcomer, possessed the strength or wherewithal to kill a goat and extract its heart – Mr Crane had to concede that. Then, he must correspondingly see that the Eldest Girls were not the perpetrators. They were victims. Though a curfew was likely not what the mothers had in mind when they went to the headmaster for his help. Wasn’t it protection for their daughters that they sought, not punishment?

The opinion in the Anchor that evening – men only, it being a Tuesday – was that this was an inevitable conclusion to a saga that had been allowed to go on for far too long. It was unsavoury timing though, to be confronting this ungodly business, with Christmas just days away. As soon as Jacob Crane joined the gathering in the bar, however, judgement shifted – the timing was spot on. There were so many jolly distractions to come – carol-singing in chapel, the lighting of a tree on the cobbles, the last day of term, the baking of cakes, the lifting of wine rationing – who would find themselves dwelling upon the matter at all?