‘You won’t want to hear this, but you’ve suffered more than most the last few years — what with your parents, Erik, Robbie going missing and then Andy and the wee bairn being taken.’ Nettie gazed into her eyes with such empathy, it took Sorcha’s breath away. ‘While most will be glad to have you back, there’s some will seek to disturb any peace you may have found.’ She nodded towards the front door. They both knew to whom she referred.

When Reverend Cowper dared to use the death of her Davan as a warning for all Pittenweem folk who strayed from God’s path — as if Sorcha had deliberately done so and brought the consequences upon herself — she couldn’t, wouldn’t stand for it. No one, not even a man of God, had any right to use her dead son as a lesson — even a godly one, whether it was meant for her alone or not. Anyhow, she knew what Cowper was up to. Had he not told her the day he came to the house after her son died? Others might not have heard what he whispered to her, but she’d never forget. His words were seared in her mind.

Looking for all the world like he was offering comfort, his breath was hot and sour on her face. ‘This is God’s punishment, Sorcha McIntyre, for failing to do your duty. Like all the fishwives, you be an ungodly woman, one who doesn’t ken her place.’

She’d looked long and hard into his pale face with its one sharp and one bleary eye and did the worst thing she could have done: she laughed. Sorcha knew what really drove his rage towards her and it was naught to do with her beliefs or anyone else’s. It was because she’d seen what he attempted to do to her mother after her da died. He’d tried to force himself upon Astrid and would have succeeded had Sorcha not discovered what he was about and beaten him hard on the back and shoulders until he drew away and threatened to tell everyone if he so much as glanced at her mor again. She’d only ever told Nettie what had happened, but he didn’t know that and foolishly thought if he could control her, quash her spirit, shame and discredit her, his dirty secret would be safe. He wasn’t the paragon of virtue he pretended to be but a flawed man with salacious wants.

As she laughed at him, fury had twisted his features and she felt sure he’d been about to strike her, but Nettie had appeared and he’d quickly assumed his other face before walking away.

Unable to lie still any longer, memories prodding her like a hot poker, she quietly rose, pulled the covers back over Nettie and went to the outer room to stoke the fire.