‘Well, that wouldn’t be my business now, would it, Dougie, any more than it is yours,’ he said, his face giving away no hint of emotion, though his eyes were flinty cold. He turned his attention to Anna, ignoring the old man completely. ‘Razor clams do you?’

Her head was still so buzzing with rage that Anna couldn’t fathom the question. ‘I-what?’

Robert MacKenzie nodded at the bunch of leaves in her hand. ‘To go with the purslane. Razor clams.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Razor clams would work perfectly.’

‘All right. I’ll take you to collect a bucket later. Now I’ve got to get this one to school.’

Anna barely watched them leave, the sound of the revving motor echoing around the cliff. Douglas McKean was watching her with dark, narrowed eyes. She looked at him in disgust and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak for fear that her words would be laced with rage. Anna walked away, the purslane clutched in her hand so tightly that it left an impression of leaves across her palm.

Thirteen

Pat was hanging up washing as Anna came back along the narrow path.

‘Morning,’ she said, cheerfully, and then saw Anna’s face. ‘Oh – is something wrong?’

Anna shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it. Have you got time for tea? I’ve got plans – with a capital P – to tell you about.’

‘I can’t this morning, I’m afraid. Frank’s got a hospital appointment and I’m going with him to do some shopping in town while he’s there.’

‘Oh?’ Anna asked, worry immediately clouding her thoughts. ‘He’s all right?’

‘Just a check-up, love, on his pacemaker.’

‘I didn’t realize he had one.’

‘Ah well,’ said Pat, with a sigh, ‘he’d prefer to pretend he doesn’t. He had a heart attack two years ago. You’d think that’d be a wake-up call for him to slow down a bit, but no, not our Frank. Likes to think he’s still thirty and tries to act like it, too.’

‘Oh Pat, I’m sorry. That must be a worry.’

Pat reached out and squeezed Anna’s arm. ‘Old age, love. Gets to us all in the end. He’s mostly right as rain, and who knows? Perhaps the doctor will be able to talk some sense into him.’ Her neighbour nodded at the overflowing basket of washing. ‘Give me a hand and you can tell me all about these plans of yours as you do.’

Most of Anna’s anger had evaporated by the time the last of Pat’s sheets were pegged to the North Sea wind.

‘I think a pop-up restaurant is a fine idea,’ Pat said, picking up the empty basket and resting it against her hip. ‘Anything you need from Frank and me to make it work, let us know.’