Looping the rope around the peg, she leant back, checking its firmness and tension. It vibrated with pleasing freshness and she wrapped it around her waist in the St Kildan style.

She looked down the drop once more. Cousin Euan had been right; it really wasn’t so high here. Seven hundred feet? Half the height of Connachair. A single drop of the ropes would take them maybe a third of the way down. Still, they were merely going to be playing up here today. No bird hunting, no egg collecting, no saving stranded sheep. Just playing.

‘You’re looking peely-wally there, Eff,’ Angus drawled. ‘Sure you’re up to it?’

She looked back at him with scorn. Angus prided himself on being the fastest climber on the island. He had won last year’s Old Trial, a climbing race among the young men to prove they were worthy of providing for their families – and future wives. If he had wanted to prove anything to her, the point had been well and truly lost. Effie was certain she could have beaten him (and the rest) had she only been allowed to enter too. But as a girl . . . ‘Actually, I was just wondering how quickly I could get down there.’

A smirk grew. ‘You think you can do it fast?’

‘Faster than you.’ She pulled her fair hair back, tying it away from her face in a balled knot. The last thing she needed was a gust of wind blowing it about and blinding her on the route.

‘Ha! You’re all talk and no trousers, Effie Gillies.’

It was her turn to smirk. ‘Well, yes, even I won’t deny there’s not much in my trews.’ Angus McKinnon might be the fastest man on the isle, but he wasn’t the brightest. As if to make the point, she hitched up her breeches at the waist; they had been John’s and were the only suitable attire for climbing, but she didn’t wear them purely for reasons of practicality.

Finlay blushed furiously. ‘Ignore her,’ he said. ‘You know she’s only trying to rile you. Everyone knows you’re the fastest, brother. Just give the rich people a show. This is an exhibition, not a race.’

Effie shrugged as if she couldn’t care less either way, but they all knew the gauntlet had been thrown down. She – a girl! – was challenging Angus for his crown; the competition could happen here between the two of them. Why not? It was as good a chance as any. She watched him looking down the cliff as the islanders did final checks on their ropes and took their positions on the cliff edge.

Effie kept her eyes ahead, her hands already around the rope. Waiting. Hoping—