She knew now was the moment she had to convince him of her innocence. If she didn’t do it now, he would keep coming after her. ‘I don’t know. But it was so busy; there was so much going on that none of us slept much the last week. We were all exhausted, doing what had to be done for our own families; we weren’t keeping tabs on the factor.’

He walked slowly across the floor, staring at the shine on his shoes. ‘I’m afraid I just don’t believe that. Frank would never have been ‘left behind’. He wouldn’t have got the timings wrong.’ He sneered, the motion crumpling his face. ‘He was a professional manager: organized, efficient – and at times, ruthless. I’m quite aware he was a man with enemies.’ He stopped at the end of the bed and stared at her. ‘But he had been masterminding the logistics of the move for weeks. Months. He didn’t get left on the wrong side of the island by mistake. There was no one who knew the drill better than him.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m very sorry about all of it.’

‘Oh, I know you are. From where I’m standing, you look very sorry indeed. You look like the kid who kicked the cat; you know you’ve done something wrong and now you’re just waiting to be found out . . .’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not true.’ It was the truth.

He walked up the side of the bed now and for the first time she saw he had something in his hand. He stared down at her for several moments and she pulled the blankets tighter around her neck. She hated that she had been put in the bed and she could see him reading her fear. ‘. . . This came for you this morning,’ he said finally.

He held out the object she had glimpsed. A letter.

She took it without thanks. Had he read it? She wouldn’t put anything past him.

He stared down at her forbiddingly for a few moments more, and she realized he made her feel exactly as the factor always had: threatened and off balance. A determined and contrived abuse of power.

‘. . . Sleep well, Miss Gillies,’ he said, leaving the room. ‘While you still can.’

The door closed behind him and Effie sank back into the pillows. For several seconds she lay motionless, going over everything he’d said to her, the questions he had asked, the innuendo in his voice. What had Frank told him? Everything? Some of it? Or was this all a bluff?

She remembered the letter, twisted in her hands, and felt a stab of longing for some loving words from an old friend: Flora. Mhairi . . . Slowly she opened it.

Dear Effie,

We hope this letter finds you well. We miss you here, things are quiet without you.