The Ravenswick was built in the nineteenth century by an English gentleman and the hotel keeps the atmosphere of a country house. There’s a library with leather chesterfields, and the lounge has slightly faded Persian carpets on the polished floor. An ancient rocking horse stands on the landing. Only the perpetual sound of wind and water brings Shetland into the place.

I saw them again in the bar when I took their orders for dinner. They were the only people there. By now a force-ten north-easterly had blown up and the locals were staying at home. The hotel is so close to the shore that in a storm from the east it’s like being in a ship; when waves break on the rocks below the spray rattles the windows and there’s the smell of salt indoors. I stood for a minute watching, before I approached them. That curiosity again. My daughter Edie always said I should be a writer. The woman sat between the men. She’d changed into a dress, something clinging, and wore diamond earrings. Her eyes glittered more brightly than the jewels. She’s had more than one large G&T, I thought, before turning my attention to the men.

The older was called Jefferson, obviously the boss, but desperate to be liked. He called to Stan at the bar for another round of drinks. Although he must have been fifty, he wore jeans and an open-necked shirt. He had a good body for his age. I guessed he played squash, took a run every morning. The young one – the object of the woman’s desire – was blond and boyish. Still wearing the suit he’d arrived in, he seemed uncomfortable, over-dressed. He pulled off his tie and stuffed it in his pocket. The woman’s attentions discomfited him too. Occasionally I saw him shoot an embarrassed glance at Jefferson and the older man would smile back in an almost encouraging way. It was as if he hoped his colleagues would end up together before the evening was through. As I watched, the woman left to go to the Ladies and Jefferson said, ‘Look, Larry, just keep her happy. Mel’s an attractive woman. What harm would it do?’

I went off shift while they were eating their meal, so I don’t know what Larry made of his boss’s advice.

When I woke the next morning my first thought was that the wind had dropped, then that it was very early and my sleep had been disturbed. Someone was screaming in a high-pitched tone, which verged on the hysterical. That would be Jenny Jamieson, who works in the kitchen and is one for a drama. Last time it was a dead rabbit that the cat had ripped apart. I pulled on my clothes and went downstairs. Jenny had gone into the bar, where we serve breakfast if the hotel is quiet, and she stood there, her mouth wide open.

‘Will you shut up,’ I snapped. ‘You’ll have the whole house awake.’ She clamped her mouth together and nodded towards the fireplace. There, slumped on the rug, was the Englishwoman, Mel. Her face was blue and her eyes were swollen. Tight around her neck was a gentleman’s tie. She was as dead as the rabbit that had caused Jenny’s last screaming fit.