A couple of the men – Uncle Hamish and Angus McKinnon – were crossing the field from the beach. Coming for her. They walked with long, loping strides, their bare feet inured to the uneven ground and countless sharp, frost-shattered rocks that dotted the grass. She knew this bluff would be nothing for them. Expert cragsmen, they could get to her without ropes, no bother.

Effie pulled her legs in and got to her feet, the dog wriggling in her rope harness as she became suspended again. She shifted the dog onto her back and Poppit began pawing at the air, as if offended by the indignity of being carried like a sheep. But they had to move. The men were almost at Lorna’s shoulder, already scanning the cliff for the fastest route up. Effie hugged the rough, cold granite, her cheek pressed to it as she waited for the dog to settle.

‘Effie!’ Lorna cried.

‘No!’ Effie yelled back, looking for handholds and beginning to reach.

‘I won’t let them harm her!’

But Effie knew Lorna – for all her education and mainland skills – had no more power than she did in this. The only thing that could save her dog was money. Anything that cost the villagers was a liability to be cast off, and there would be no value given to a lame dog.

She began to climb, her knees pointing outwards so that she could keep her body flat to the rocks and counterbalance the extra weight on her back. She moved confidently, her hands and bare feet grabbing small, sharp, jutting rocks, her fingertips finding narrow crevices. She was strong but light and moved up the bluff quickly, even though the dog’s weight was added to her own.

‘Effie, where are you going? You know there’s nowhere to go!’ Lorna called up, her voice ever more distant.

Effie glanced down. The men were on the rocks now and narrowing the gap as they advanced without the encumbrance of a dog.

She heaved and pulled herself up with a power she’d never known she had. If she had wanted to beat Angus McKinnon in the past, it had never mattered more than today. Panting hard, she scaled the bluffs, one hand, one leg at a time.

They were gaining on her but when she looked up, she saw the clifftop was only fifty feet above her. She might not outclimb the men today, but she could outrun them. If she could get to the top with enough of a lead, she could force them into an agreement. They wouldn’t listen to sentiment or vain promises, but there was one thing she could leverage.