If the ship was holed below the waterline and there was still diesel in the tanks, they could have an ecological disaster on their hands.

‘I was due back on Flotta,’ Rory said, ‘but I could stay here in case I’m needed.’

They would definitely have to check out the ship’s hull for any damage, and that would require a professional diver, which was Rory’s job at the oil terminal. Erling was pleased he’d offered to stay, without being asked. He kissed him as a thank you.

‘You want food before you head out?’ Rory offered.

‘Coffee and a bannock to take away would be great,’ Erling said as he went to get dressed.

‘Did you get the name of the ship?’ Rory called after him.

‘MV Orlova.’

‘Sounds Russian,’ Rory said as he set up the coffee machine and extracted cheese from the fridge to load up the bannock.

Minutes later, Erling was heading up the steps to the road and his car. Outwith the shelter of the cottage, the wind was still strong enough to nearly take his car door off as he attempted to get inside.

Pulling away from the cottage, he was presented by a fine view of Scapa Flow, still raging after the battering it had had overnight.

Erling could only imagine what the sea off Yesnaby would be like.

4

The wind had lifted a few tiles, but they were easily replaced. As for the hen house? Where it had ended up, Ava Clouston had no idea. Although she’d taken the precaution of shutting the hens in the big barn along with the wintering kye, so they wouldn’t be blown away too.

Nevertheless, she’d spent most of the night awake and peering out of the window, just to check that the barn was still intact. Having lived in London for years now, she’d forgotten just how much damage the wind up here could do, and Storm Birka had apparently been the worst to hit Orkney for a while.

Heading for the byre, she said a silent thank you to her farming neighbour, Tommy Flett, who’d advised her not to let the cattle out to graze before the first of May, despite the recent bout of good spring weather and the lush green grass that awaited them.

Her heart was heavy as she trudged through the mud, not because of the storm, but because the storm had only served to amplify the decision she must take, and soon. The funeral had been nearly two months ago and she still hadn’t worked out what to do with the family farm. Pain gripped her again as she recalled the terrible call that had brought her rushing home to Orkney. Her much-loved parents, both dead in a freak car accident.