“What do we do now?” Sarah asked. She shivered. She was standing underneath the light fixed on the wall, and the shadow at her feet was strange and witchlike, because of the long dress and the shawl.

“Just give me a minute,” Sandy said. “Then Jim knows what to do.”

He took half a bottle of whisky from his pocket and took a swig, then pushed open the door into the hall. It swung back on a heavy spring almost immediately, before Sarah could see what was happening inside, but she felt a rush of warm air and she shivered again.

Inside, they must have been waiting for Sandy to come back, because they were quiet at once, and expectant. He must have been standing just inside the door, because when he spoke his voice was very loud.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “ can we welcome Sarah and Jim.”

There was a sound of chairs scraping against a wooden floor as they all stood up, then the door was open and she was in there with them. Jim took her hand and they walked together around the room. The guests were clapping. After waiting outside in the darkness, the lights seemed very bright. The room was very warm. Sarah wished that it was all over. She had expected to enjoy the attention, but she was overawed by the strange faces and the noise and the staring eyes. She supposed that they were looking at Jim, too, but it seemed that everyone was staring at her critically and with interest. Eventually she reached her place at the table, but there were more cheers before Jim took his hand from her arm, and she was allowed to sit down.

Then the guests sat, too, and began talking to each other, so that they were no longer looking at her, and she began to relax a little. She looked down the table, avoiding curious eyes. There were plates of cold meat and dishes of vegetables for people to help themselves, thick cups and saucers and enormous institutional teapots. It was very different from the first wedding reception in the smart hotel in Chester, where the toasts were drunk in champagne, there was a professional photographer, and the waitresses were dressed in black.

Jim interrupted her thoughts. “ You must start to eat,” he whispered. “ They’re all desperate to get at the food, but they won’t like to until you do.”

She helped herself and immediately there was a clatter of spoons against china, plates and dishes were passed along the table, and the party began. As they ate she could look at the people more closely. They concentrated so hard on their plates and the conversation that there was no danger that they would see her watching, return her stare. There were perhaps forty people, of all ages, in the room.

“Is everyone here?” she asked. “Everyone who lives on Kinness?”

“Everyone except Melissa.”

“Melissa?”