‘I’ve every right to be here,’ she hissed back, resisting as he tried to push her out into the courtyard with his elbow. They had scrapped plenty of times as children and she’d won her fair share until he was double her weight. She jammed her foot against the door frame, hooking and locking her leg against it; she was determined not to be jostled back out but Finlay simply stepped in front of her, blocking her from sight instead.

There was a ripple of murmured voices at the commotion.

‘What’s happening back here? You, man, what’s your name?’

‘. . . McKinnon, sir. Finlay McKinnon.’

‘And what’s all the bother?’

‘It’s not Fin making the fuss sir,’ Angus said, elbowing his brother aside. Effie stared back at the room of men, all of whom she knew. Except one.

The foreman looked taken aback by the sight of her, although whether it was because she was a girl dressed in a man’s suit, or on account of her muddied leg and clawed hair, she wasn’t sure.

There was a silence as they regarded one another. He had a moustache and pale, doughy skin that was pocked on the cheeks. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and she could see a vivid scar, almost like a crocodile bite, down the length of his right forearm.

‘And you are?’

‘Euphemia Gillies. Effie Gillies. I’ve come to work.’

A flicker of amusement danced through his eyes. ‘Well, Miss Gillies, I’m sorry to have to inform you we only employ men at the forestry commission.’

She tipped her head to the side but didn’t blink. ‘Why?’

He seemed surprised by the question. ‘Because the labour is manual and requires a man’s strength.’

‘That’s what they said back home about fowling on the cliffs, but I showed them there and I can show you too. I’m as able as any man here,’ she said staunchly, refusing to look away, even though she could hear Angus sniggering beside her.

The foreman’s eyes slid between the two old neighbours for a moment. ‘Miss Gillies, I don’t doubt your . . . fitness, but the women have been found work in the village, helping Mrs—’

‘It’s not women’s work I’m after, sir. I need a man’s wage. It’s just me and my father, you see. He’s not good on his feet now so it’s up to me to put the meal on the table. I can’t do that on the wages I’ll get for women’s work. You’ll see I’m as hard-working and strong as any of these men. More so! I was the fastest climber on Hirta—’

A snort of disbelief escaped Angus.