Watching as the farm buildings disappeared from her rear-view mirror, Ava gave an audible sigh of relief. For the next few hours, at least, she could think of herself as a reporter again, and not as a big sister and pseudo-farmer.

The wind had dropped in strength, but the sky, via her windscreen, was still a swift-moving collage of cloud, with intermittent flashes of blue and rays of sunshine.

When she’d left to go to university in Aberdeen, it was the big skies of Orkney she’d missed most. That and the closeness of the ever-shifting sea.

Eventually choosing London as her base, she’d sought a high-rise apartment so that she might be nearer to the sky. The constantly moving sea, however, could never be replaced. Even the Thames didn’t do that.

Dougie hadn’t returned from the boathouse before she was ready to leave, so she’d left him a note taped to the fridge. Had she left it on the kitchen table, the likelihood was he would never have noticed. The fridge, however, was always a go-to location for her teenage brother.

What if I wasn’t here to fill the fridge?

Ava chastised herself for that thought. Dougie was pretty self-sufficient. Probably more so than she had been at his age. He wouldn’t starve without her, that was for sure.

Being early in the tourist season, the road past the Loch of Stenness was currently devoid of the buses that ferried folk from the giant cruise liners that docked just outside Kirkwall to the key tourist sights of Orkney mainland. The loch itself was still choppy and white-tipped, despite its sheltered location.

Turning onto the Yesnaby road, she spotted the police and rescue vehicles parked up ahead. The neighbouring farm she knew belonged to Geordie Findlater, a friend of her father’s, who’d apparently reported the foundering ship to the coastguard.

According to the phone call from The Orcadian, Geordie had crawled to the edge of the cliffs in high winds to take a photograph. Knowing Geordie, that didn’t surprise her.

As she drew up alongside the other vehicles, Ava spotted another face she recognized. Of course Erling would be in charge of this, she thought. Surprisingly, he was now an inspector, when back in their teenage days in school together, he’d stated that he had no intention of remaining on Orkney. As for joining the police? His teenage self would have laughed at such a suggestion.

We don’t always end up where we thought we would, she mused as she approached him.

Spotting her, Erling finished his mobile conversation. ‘You’re here. Great. That was the coastguard. They’re going to try and bring a couple of divers round to take a look below the waterline and check the hull.’

‘You’re worried about the fuel tanks?’