The boy went to the fridge door and pulled a photograph from the papery melee. He looked at it for a second and then brought it over to her, holding it out with a solemn face. Anna took the photograph and looked at it. In it the Cassie’s Joy floated at anchor in Gamrie’s harbour, Crovie’s line of houses barely visible in the distance across the water. A small woman with short dark hair stood on the deck, holding a toddler against her hip. Beside her stood Robert MacKenzie, both arms around the two of them, his face half-hidden against her hair as he kissed her head. Cassie and little Robbie were both laughing at the camera, her one free hand clutching at her husband’s arm where it crossed over her chest. Anna was reminded, sharply, of that laughing picture of herself and her parents, the one that was beside her hearth in the Fishergirl’s Luck. She took a breath and felt the heavy, painful thump of her heart, and tried to hold at bay the gathering tears.

‘It’s my favourite picture,’ Robbie said quietly. ‘Even if I don’t remember it happening.’

Anna smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’

They were silent for a few more minutes, and the boy then took the photo and pinned it back on the fridge.

‘He didn’t buy any this time,’ Robbie said, with his back still to her. ‘He came home with the shopping but there wasn’t any beetroot. I think—’

He stopped, and Anna hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes before he turned around again.

‘You think – what?’ she asked, to cover the motion.

He gave a half-shrug. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

She wanted to pull him into a hug, but couldn’t. Anna turned to the next cupboard instead, pulled it open and spied a jar of jam and a packet of ground almonds.

‘Raspberry frangipane tarts,’ she said. ‘That should give Queen Victoria a run for her money, don’t you think?’

Two hours later, the tarts were cooling on a rack and Anna sat beside Robbie at the table, helping him to finish his homework. The front door opened, the sound of the wind gusting through it, and then Robert MacKenzie appeared in the doorway, wet with rain. He looked tired, but smiled at the sight of them at the table.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Looks as if you two have been busy.’

‘You’ve got a budding baker here,’ Anna said as she stood, not quite looking at him. ‘Robbie did most of the work himself. I should be going.’ She laid a hand on Young Robbie’s shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Let me know how the bake sale goes tomorrow, eh?’

‘You won’t stay for a drink?’ Robert asked, as he shrugged off his wet coat and hung it on a peg, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

‘Thanks, but I’d best get going.’