The dogs were barking with their usual agitation, even Poppit mustering some energy as she was caught up in the excitement. Effie didn’t dare to sneak even a single glance across to the factor’s house as she waited on the beach with the women, but it made her heart pound to think that perhaps he could now see her.

The boat was drawing closer now and the women waded out as far as their hitched skirts would allow. Effie kept well back, not wanting another touch from the sea today; the shivers still tremored in her bones. The women formed a line and one by one the sacks of sheep wool were passed back to her, on the shore. She stacked them in neat piles, noticing as the factor’s door opened at last and the owner came striding out. He was always remarkably visible when money or power was around.

Effie kept her head down as he approached, pretending to count the sacks even though she had already counted them in, all fifty-three of them.

‘You’re still with us, Miss Gillies,’ he muttered, reaching a hand into the nearest bag and inspecting the quality of the dark wool.

‘Yes. I’m going to go over tomorrow now. It was a bit late by the time I—’

He looked up at her, one eyebrow arched, waiting for her own description of the events in the water earlier.

‘Finished swimming,’ she murmured.

‘So you learnt then,’ he said after a pause.

‘Aye, sir, and now I’m going to teach the kiddies next. It’s a matter of safety.’

‘Safety? Indeed,’ he said, pulling apart some of the fleece between his fingers, feeling the density of the yarn. ‘’Tis a wonder you’ve all survived on the isle this long.’

His sarcasm stung her but she gave no reply. Over his shoulder, she could see that his guests had come to stand in the doorway and watch the islanders’ return. The earl was leaning on a set of crutches, his ankle and foot heavily bandaged; Lorna’s work again. Sholto stared openly at her from the threshold. Had the two men been forced to endure the factor’s hospitality all afternoon? Certainly the earl couldn’t possibly get away.

Mathieson was now stuffing the wool back into the sacks and lifting them to gauge their weight and likely yield. He had a way of moving that implied discontent with what he found, as though he suspected the islanders were swindling or defrauding him. Effie shifted her weight uncomfortably, wishing someone else would stand by them too, but behind her the men were disembarking. She could hear the sound of their feet splashing through the water as everyone heaved the boat up and onto the beach.