‘Miss P—?’ Effie looked skywards in alarm, to find a fluffy white cat huddled on the roof; specifically, she was tucked into the corner of the intricately carved stone pediment that protruded at a perpendicular angle to the slate roof. ‘. . . Oh.’

She was an entirely different beast to the cats back home. On St Kilda they were sleek creatures, tiger-striped and mottled tabbies with bright yellow eyes, excellent at catching the mice. Miss . . . Petunia didn’t look capable of catching anything but a cold.

‘She can’t stay up there all night. She’s an indoor cat. I don’t even know how she got up there. She must have climbed through one of the windows in the bedrooms when I was airing earlier and onto the drainpipe.’ The maid’s voice wavered. ‘Oh, what will I do? I can’t tell her ladyship Miss Petunia is stuck on the roof. She’s her pride and joy. If she was to fall . . .’

‘Cats are pretty good at landing the right way up,’ Effie said, seeing how the cat curled herself into a tighter ball as they talked. She was mewing and clearly in distress. ‘But I agree, that is a long way down.’

She stepped back and took a closer look at the roof. The slate tiles were too smooth and steeply pitched to climb down from above, but the chimneys up top were set upon a flat area in the centre and looked solid and secure. ‘Mmm . . . I reckon I can get her for you.’

Fanny gasped. ‘You do? How?’

‘I’ll climb up there and get her.’

‘Effie, no! You could be killed!’

Effie grinned at her dramatics. ‘Fanny, believe me, I’ve climbed much higher and harder than this wee wall.’ She tipped her head to the side. ‘But I will need a rope.’

‘A rope?’ Fanny was looking at her like she’d asked for a gun.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘. . . All right,’ Fanny breathed, looking scared.

‘The longest you can find, please. And Billy. Get me him too. There must be an access to the roof from the top floor?’

‘Yes. Through the attic.’

‘Then give him the rope and ask him to get onto the roof with it. But he must stay on the flat. No heroics, y’ hear me?’

Fanny nodded. ‘Rope. Stay on the flat.’

‘Get him to shout down when he’s up there.’

Fanny ran back into the house, leaving Effie standing by the top of the steps.

‘Well, you’re causing an awful fuss and no mistake,’ Effie called up softly to the cat as she crouched down to unlace her boots and remove her socks. Miss Petunia meowed in reply. She seemed distinctly out of place, cowering on the Palladian roof. She looked like she ought to be napping on a silk chaise before a log fire.