Mhairi nodded, Effie too; she felt an unfamiliar lump in her throat. She wasn’t one for sentimentality but emotions were trying to press through her thick skin. She got up, her shoulders held high, her lithe body as brittle as a stick. ‘I’ll be back over when I can.’

She could feel their apprehension at her back as she turned away and began striding for the ridge. She wanted to stay with her friends. She wanted to pretend they were still just girls and life was, if not easy, then at least fair. But those days had sunk with other suns and she knew the moment was upon her to face her future. Flora was right; she was always right: the tide was out. It was time to dig the bait.

BEFORE

Chapter One

A month earlier – 13 May 1930

The dogs were barking on the beach. The old women came to stand at their doors, looking out with hard frowns across the curve of the bay. The tide was going out and there’d been a testy wind all day, whipping up the waves and making the birds wheel with delight.

Effie didn’t move from her position on the milking stone. She had her cheek to Iona’s belly and was filling the pail with relaxed indifference. She knew it could be another twenty minutes before a boat nosed around the headland, though it would probably be sooner today, given these winds. Her collie Poppit – brown-faced, with a white patch over one eye – sat beside her, ears up and looking out over the water, already awaiting the far-off sea intruders, though she wouldn’t leave Effie’s side.

She watched the movements of the villagers from her elevated perch. The milking enclosure was a good third of the way up the hill and she always enjoyed the view. It was a Tuesday, which meant washing day, and she could see the younger women standing in the burns, skirts tucked up and scrubbing the linens as they talked. They wouldn’t like having their sheets flying in the wind if visitors were coming. None of the tourist boats were scheduled to come this week, but if it was a trawler, it wouldn’t be so bad; most of the captains were friends.