He stands up, paces the bunkhouse end to end and then back again. ‘I thought it was the right thing to do. For Robert. For everyone.’ He stops. ‘But you’re right. Kenny was right. And I was wrong.’ When he looks at me again, I flinch from the haunted horror in his eyes. And all the hope and the anger drain out of me.

‘Christ, Maggie. I was so, so wrong.’

CHAPTER 36

Andrew

Mary won’t see me. She won’t say goodbye. My brave and wonderful wife who has never been afraid to confront anything. Until I dragged her here to the end of the world. When Charlie leads me out into the mudroom, I can still hear her inside Calum’s bedroom. Low deep sobs that make my own throat ache. All the tears I’ve made her cry. Our goodbye was endured without once saying the word; both of us trying too hard for Calum – hard enough that it was no real goodbye at all. I can hear Calum too. His little voice, confused, trying to comfort her, probably trying to hold her hand. He always wants to hold your hand.

Charlie opens the front door. Outside, the breeze is cool. It smells of the sea. The road is empty, the headland deserted. Bruce is standing on the Coffin Road alongside my grazing sheep. He looks over at me and freezes still, so I give him a nod, and after a long moment, he gives me one back. I’m glad they’re safe now; I’m glad he’s the one looking after them.

Charlie starts heading west without looking back to see if I follow. The wind gets higher, colder, as we get closer to Àite Lurach. I’m limping, and my bruised ribs ache as my breath gets quicker. I feel a fleeting regret that I’ll never see the machair again – all that colour and light – but it’s only dull, distant. We climb the bluffs, and I ignore the stutter in my heart when the Atlantic appears before me, flat and featureless. The late afternoon sun is low like the tide; its reflection glitters over all that endless grey like diamond stardust.

We take the path down. Charlie curses when he loses his footing close to the bottom and sinks into the banked sand dunes. It doesn’t take long to reach the shoreline – even at its lowest tide, the sea stays close to the land. When we finally stop, my heart stutters again, louder this time. And when Charlie turns to look at me, he senses it.

‘You don’t have to do this.’

I breathe, low and slow. ‘Yes, I do. I can’t go back.’

Charlie’s trying to maintain that careful blankness, but it doesn’t fit his face. I realise that I miss the easy smile I so despised, now that I know I won’t be seeing it again.

‘Then we can do it a different way, Robert. Not this way.’

‘No.’ The calm inside me is like a cocoon. ‘It has to be this way.’