It was nearly dark but he went outside. He walked down the road to the post office. The door was open and the light was on inside the shop. Annie was stacking shelves from boxes and crates which had arrived on the boat. Kenneth had just arrived back from delivering the island mail and was taking off his wet jacket. There was no sign of Elspeth and the boy. The Dances did not see George. He waited outside in the wet and the dark and he listened to them.

“Where are they?” Kenneth asked. His voice was low.

“She’s giving Ben his tea.”

“What was the letter she had?”

“It was from her solicitor. Bain lost his appeal.”

“That will be a relief to her.”

“Yes. She didn’t seem surprised. It was as if she had expected it.” Annie paused. She was standing on some steps, stacking tins of peas on a high shelf. She had a duster in one hand and was wiping tins before putting them on the shelf. She stopped her work, came down the steps, and approached her husband. She was still clutching the duster.

“She wants to tell everyone,” she said. “After managing to keep it to ourselves for so long. She says she can’t stand the strain of keeping it secret anymore.”

“But there’s no need.” His voice louder now and quite excitable. “The police said that they’d be discreet, that there was no need for anyone to know. I thought they were very decent.”

“It’s not that. She said that she’d decided to make it public before she spoke to the police.”

She waited, expecting some response from her husband, and when none came she continued:

“She says she had to face it. It was her responsibility and she has to face it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Kenneth said. “I don’t know what to do for the best anymore.”

George stepped forward and knocked on the door. They were startled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“What do you want?” Kenneth Dance asked rudely.

George walked into the room. The door was still open behind him and he could hear the island noises in the darkness: the sea and the animals in the field behind the house. He shut the door and it became just another room.

“I know about Elspeth,” he said. “I have to talk about it.”

They stared at him. The bewildered, gaping faces should have been ludicrous, but he understood their horror and felt only pity and distaste.

“Who’s been talking?” Kenneth Dance said at last.

“No one. Why? Does somebody on Kinness know about it?”

“No,” Kenneth Dance shouted. “How could they?”

“I was wondering if perhaps Mary knew.”

“The child? How could she have found out?”

“She was friends with Ben. He might have told her.”