Liam flew home the day before the villagers returned to Crovie for the first time. Anna took him to the airport in Inverness, where they both cried. He offered to stay for Frank’s funeral the following week, but what would have been the point? Two or three days – two or three weeks – would have made no difference, except to give him an added expense he would not be able to easily afford. They had parted with the promise that he would call as soon as he reached home, and that was that. Anna was sanguine about it, really. Part of her thought she was probably numb.

The sea and the sky were still a uniform grey as the Cassie’s Joy carried the Usual Suspects across the bay towards the stricken village. Robert MacKenzie had left a protesting Young Robbie behind in the care of his grandmother, and Douglas McKean had also remained in Gardenstown. Terry and Susan were with them, though, and David and Phil, too. Phil had been in close contact since the storm and had decided to make a trip specifically to assess the damage. Marie would join him in a couple of days, for Frank’s funeral. Anna hadn’t wanted Pat to come, had said they could report back to her, could even film it if she really wanted to see, but Pat had been adamant.

‘It can’t be avoided, love,’ she said, in a voice that was a dull echo of how it had sounded before they’d lost Frank. ‘It’s something I have to deal with, that’s all.’

Everyone was silent as the boat rounded the cliff. There was something eerie about the village before they’d even cleared the promontory, a stillness that made Anna shiver. It took her a few moments to realize that the absence was the sea birds. There were no gulls wheeling over the cliffs, screaming into the wind. The whole village felt like an empty house. There was no sign of life.

Robert brought the boat into the harbour and they helped one another out. There was debris strewn everywhere, littering the cars at the foot of the cliff and the concrete on which they stood. Anna’s Fiat had shifted sideways on its wheels and was caked with mud and clods of earth. There were smuts of peaty soil everywhere, dark and wet, as well as splinters of wood that Anna belatedly realized were the remains of one of the wooden shacks that had stood at the rear of the car parking space. Most of the barrows had been dashed to pieces, lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped. The storm had smashed them to kindling. The air was heavy with the smell of earth. Anna took Pat’s hand and held it.