‘There’s no money for her,’ he said simply. Not a bad man. Just not a sentimental one.

Chapter Fourteen

‘Effie.’

Flora held out her arms as Effie climbed aboard, flanked by Norman Ferguson, Uncle Hamish and Angus McKinnon, the villagers watching on in silence. If they pitied her, their expressions also told her it had been inevitable. Hard choices were made on a daily basis. Her fight, her last stand, had been a futile one.

‘Effie, I’m so sorry,’ Jayne said quickly, reaching an arm out to her in consolation as she passed. Effie stared at her. She could see the sorrow in her eyes, but was she sorry because she had foreseen this horror? Or was she apologizing for her brutish husband?

Ma Peg was sitting on a bench, singing an old lament and rocking herself slightly, Mad Annie sitting beside her in turgid silence for once, patting her hand. Old Fin was sitting next to her father, who had been boarded by the white-suited navymen as Norman Ferguson was escorting her down Ruival; her father gave a single tut as she passed, perfectly conveying all his disappointment and shame in that solitary gesture for the fuss and slight delay she had caused. And for what? A dog that had been killed anyway.

Her boots in one hand, Effie staggered over to her friend, weak with despair. She sank down to where Flora was sitting and dropped her head on her friend’s shoulder, hiding her face away.

‘I’m sorry,’ Flora whispered as she wept. ‘I know how you loved her.’

‘She didn’t need to die,’ Effie hiccupped wretchedly. ‘We had made a deal. I’d saved her.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Flora’s fingers gripped her shoulder more tightly as she cried harder, the tears sliding fast and plentifully. Her dismantling was complete. She had nothing left to lose: John’s accident, Poppit’s killing, Sholto’s departure and the factor’s return . . . they had each and all stripped her of any joy or hope. She felt hollowed by grief.

Flora had been sitting alone on a bulkhead by one of the lifeboats, her knees drawn up, and gradually Effie became aware that she too was trembling. She lifted her head to see Flora staring back to the village. Her cheeks – usually so rosy – were pinched white. ‘Are you well?’

Flora nodded, swallowing hard. ‘. . . I just can’t quite believe it’s actually happening. We’re really doing this.’