I spot Charlie across the road from the church, Kelly beside him as they both wave at me. Even the church seems brighter today, its empty windows and lichen-covered rookeries less threatening than weary. This has a lot to do with the two life-size papier-mâché figures propped up against its main door: pink-faced and rosy-cheeked, sporting kilts, waterproofs, and tam o’shanters; one holding a pair of bagpipes, the other an accordion.

The bog is surprisingly firm under my boots. I reach Kelly and Charlie in less than a minute, and realise that Miko is there too – hunkered down in a narrow trench and already covered in mud.

‘On the verge of sending out a search party, weren’t we, Kelly?’ Charlie says.

‘Yup.’ Kelly grins, wiping her forehead with a shirt sleeve.

I’ve seen Charlie plenty of times in the last month, but I haven’t once asked him why he lied to me about Robert confessing his full name and what he thought he’d done in Ardshader. People lie for many reasons, not all of them bad. And most of them have nothing at all to do with the person they’re lying to. Charlie has given me so much. A few months ago, that wasn’t enough. Now it is.

‘Excuse me, but this is the earliest I’ve been up in weeks,’ I say. ‘Hi, Miko. How are you?’

‘Good,’ she says, although her smile is a little dim. ‘Time’s pretty much up on the dig, and most of the students have gone back to Glasgow. Femi and a few others have stayed to close up the trenches, get the equipment ready for shipping, so I thought I could make myself useful here.’

Which means that there have been none of the finds she’d hoped for – on either the southern ridge or in the original mound. ‘I’m sorry.’

She shrugs, gives me a better smile. ‘That’s archaeology. We’re off to North Ronaldsay in the summer, maybe we’ll have better luck out there.’

‘Hi, Maggie,’ Donnie shouts, from a neighbouring peat bank that’s already been significantly dug out. Since Will told him I was staying, Donnie’s attitude towards me has thawed enough that we’ve even enjoyed a few drinks together in Am Blàr Mòr when Will hasn’t been around.

Bruce is the one doing the digging. He looks over and waves before cutting free a foot-square slab, which Gillian picks up and throws to her son, who stacks it onto an already crowded bank on top of the trench.

‘You do what Donnie’s doing,’ Charlie says to me, helping me down. ‘I’ll cut, Kelly’ll toss, you can help Dr Okitsu stack.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘When are you going to give me a go on the spade, Charlie?’ Kelly says.

‘Spade?’ Charlie growls. ‘This here is a tairsgeir, as well you know. Belonged to my father and his father and his father before him, same as this peat poll.’ He leans forwards, plunges the angled steel blade deep into a dark layer of peat. ‘And if you think you’re getting any kind of go on it, you’ve another thing coming.’