‘Rob. We can’t stay down here again.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you? You haven’t seen a proper Atlantic storm make landfall. We have to—’

‘Charlie says those kinds of storms are once in a—’

‘Charlie turns on the charm and lies through his teeth to anyone stupid enough to listen. I don’t want you letting him in this house any more.’

Mary folds her arms again. ‘He also said that these cellars are one of the worst places to be in a storm. Even at this elevation, if the sea surges, if it comes up onto the land, this place could flood in minutes.’

I remember, the day after my father died, I found a dead seal high on the headland close to Loch nam Each. Sleek and big, one baleful black eye staring up at me. I imagine green-dark sea rushing down the cellar steps – icy-cold with limbs of seaweed and crowns of yellow-white foam. I know I’m not hiding down here because I’m afraid of a storm. I’m afraid of losing the people I love. Even if they don’t always love me.

I look at Mary, the fire in her eyes and colour in her cheeks; at Calum still staring up at the stars on the ceiling. I want to keep them safe. I want to keep their love down here with me in this sanctuary I’ve created. This world that has no one else in it. Nothing but us, the stars, and a sweeping white light, constant and certain. It will always stay bright. It will never become a black tower – a shadow like something burned against a wall. I will never let it.

‘Why don’t you just ask what you want to ask me, Rob?’ Mary says, her eyes dark.

The sharp lines in my father’s face. You’re feeble, boy. Weak like a woman. I should tell Mary the truth.

‘Are you fucking Charlie?’

Wine-red spots blossom on her cheeks even as the rest of her face pales to waxy white. ‘No. I’m not fucking Charlie,’ she says, low. ‘And I’m not fucking anyone else. Not here, not in Aberdeen. Not once. But I don’t think that’s what you really want to hear, is it?’

I close my eyes. Sometimes it feels like I’m choking. Like I’m drowning inside the words I want to say. ‘Someone’s killing the sheep.’

‘What?’

‘I lied to you. When I said I didn’t know what happened to that ewe last month. She was butchered. And today, there were two more.’

Mary presses her fingers against her mouth, sends a terrified look towards Calum. ‘What kind of animal could have—’

‘I’ve put them in the freezer in the barn. And I’m going to phone the police tomorrow.’ I look at her. ‘It wasn’t an animal.’

She steps back against the wall. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone’s been watching me. Watching us.’

‘Who?’ She shakes her head. ‘You’re scaring me, Rob.’

I glance across at the workbench. ‘D’you remember the dead crows?’