‘We should introduce ourselves as well,’ he said, holding out a hand to the young man, ‘since we’re eating companions. We promise not to be too rowdy. Well, the kids won’t be, anyway. I’ll try to keep Old Robbie in line but he’s a wild one at heart… Here, have one of these cheese things, they’re amazing.’

As Anna went in and out to the table, she gathered that the young couple were called Nathan and Kate. They lived in Aberdeen, but had come over to Rosehearty for an impromptu night away. The conversation had made its way around to occupations by the time she came out to clear their plates.

‘You’re really a cooper?’ Nathan asked Robert. ‘There aren’t many of you guys left, are there?’

Anna looked at Robert, interested herself. When she’d learned that he was on the lifeboats, she’d assumed that was his main occupation.

‘There aren’t,’ he agreed.

‘Which distillery are you at?’

‘Macduff.’

‘I didn’t even know there was a distillery at Macduff,’ Kate said, surprised.

‘There’s no reason you would,’ Robert told her. ‘It’s not a single malt producer anymore. Production is only for blends. And though I’m based there, I move around.’ Anna took his plate and he looked up at her, smiling. ‘Thank you. That was the best thing I’ve eaten for a long time.’

‘Yeah,’ his son agreed. ‘Dad’s a rubbish cook. He even burns beans on toast.’

Fraser gave a loud belly laugh that rippled around the table as Anna went back to the cottage to serve dessert. Her gaze was drawn to the figure slowly making his way towards them along the path. It was Douglas McKean. Her stomach did a sick spin. He wasn’t usually out and about at this time of day.

She busied herself with the lemon possets, taking them out of the fridge, unwrapping them and putting them on plates with the buttery shortbread she’d made alongside ramekins of fresh raspberries. Then she heard Old Robbie’s voice, slightly raised.

‘Douglas,’ he said. ‘How are you doing?’

There was an answering grumble that sounded like thunder gathering on a hot day. Anna went outside to see that McKean was leaning over the fence. She could feel his eyes on her as she passed, heading for Nathan and Kate at the far end of the table.

‘Why don’t you join us, Mr McKean?’ she asked. ‘I made extra desserts and there’s coffee on. You’re welcome. I can bring out an extra chair for you.’

The old man didn’t even acknowledge that she’d spoken. His eyes were fixed on Old Robbie, instead.

‘The shame,’ he said, his accent thick but his words still clear to everyone sitting at the table. ‘The shame of you, Robert MacKenzie, breaking bread at this table when you know this place is rightfully mine.’