Ma Peg said something else about the tyranny of aristocracy. Effie translated to a more polite remark. ‘And she hopes you are enjoying our beautiful home.’

‘Ah, yes!’ He nodded exaggeratedly. ‘Among the most beautiful I’ve seen, Mrs MacDonald. We consider ourselves fortunate to be here.’

They had reached her cottage and waited for a moment as the old woman pushed on the open door.

‘Allow me to bring this in for you, Mrs MacDonald,’ Lord Sholto said, enunciating as though she was deaf and stepping forward into the gloomy interior. ‘By the fire?’

The old woman watched with a twinkle in her eye as he set it down by the hearth. She nodded her thanks with a toothless smile and looked back at Effie, dismissing her with a conspiratorial wink.

The trio walked the short way further down the Street to Effie’s own cottage. The factor’s house was at the far end, nearest the quay and the beach.

‘Well, I’ll leave you here,’ she said as they drew close. ‘This is me.’

Poppit had trotted ahead to greet the other dogs after her day’s absence. Her father had disappeared into the house with the broom, leaving Mad Annie sitting on the wall. Her hands were still moving as she watched their group approach with open curiosity, the needles clacking away incessantly.

Effie quickly made the introductions. Mad Annie was ten years younger than Ma Peg and had the spirit and nervous energy to prove it, looking back at the men through dark inquisitive eyes, her steel-grey hair caught in a tight bun.

‘Ah, you’re back,’ her father said, reappearing at the sound of their voices.

‘Mr Gillies, may I commend you on instilling in your daughter an impressive education,’ the earl said. ‘She’s a credit to you.’

‘I’m afraid he has no English, sir. Just a moment . . .’ Effie quickly translated, but not his words. ‘He says they’ve had a good day and are pleased to give us the two shillings,’ she said instead, not mentioning anything about her education. Her father knew nothing of the books hidden beneath her mattress. She had never known how to explain that the factor brought them over for her. It had started as a kindness after John’s death, a diversion now there was no brother to talk to, but several years on, she didn’t merit this special attention and she knew it. But she loved her books . . .

She heard a momentary pause in the clacking of Mad Annie’s knitting needles before they started up again. She had forgotten that Mad Annie, sitting there, spoke English as well.

Effie’s cheeks flamed at having been caught out in the fib.

‘Will you be all right getting back to the factor’s house? You know the way to go?’ she asked the two men.