‘But I do. And I will,’ she said urgently. The factor didn’t know it yet, but she and her father had lost four of their sheep over the top this year already, so they were already down on their wool yield. Her father had bartered 100 extra fulmars instead with Donald McKinnon and it had been a rare endorsement of Effie’s climbing skills that both men believed she was capable of bagging the extra haul, on top of the usual harvest.

‘Miss Gillies, you don’t need me to remind you that you are a girl doing a man’s job. The odds are already grossly stacked against you.’

‘But I’m eighteen now, and I’ve grown this last year. I can do anything they can and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you, sir.’

The factor looked at her keenly. ‘You receive more than you are due and you deliver less than you owe. You see my predicament? I must be fair, Miss Gillies. Why should I make – and keep making – exceptions for you? If the others were to know—’

‘But they won’t. I’ll make sure we’re square and level come this September.’

‘So you’re saying you want me to keep this a secret?’

‘Secret . . .?’ Behind him, the reverend and the two gentlemen guests walked past on the path back to the village, the minister holding forth on the repairs made to the manse. Lord Sholto glanced across at them talking as he passed by and she found herself smiling back at him, as though he’d pulled it from her on a string.

‘From your neighbours? And your father too?’

She looked back at the factor in confusion. He was watching her intently. ‘. . . No, please don’t tell him. I don’t want him to worry. I can make the quota this year, I know I can.’

He tutted. ‘I don’t know why I allow you to manipulate me, Miss Gillies—’

She frowned. Did she manipulate him?

‘A “thank you” doesn’t pay the fiddler, now, does it?’ he sighed. ‘Still, I have sympathy for your predicament and although I have a job to do, I believe in being a friend in the hour of need.’

Effie bit her lip – she had to – to keep from laughing out loud. What? There wasn’t a person on the isle who would have considered the factor a friend. He bought their feathers at five shillings a stone and sold them at fifteen, and the supplies he brought over – oatmeal, flour, sugar, tea and tobacco – cost them three times what he paid. Was it any wonder the villagers tried to bypass him with money they earnt from the tourists and could spend directly themselves?

‘Talking of which, I have brought you something, again.’

‘For our studies?’ She had finished her schooling four years ago, but he never seemed to remember this.