Fionnlagh seemed almost uncomfortable at his father finding him like this, but he was in no position to move. Fin sat down in the armchair opposite, and an uneasy silence settled on them. Finally Fin said, “Eilidh was my mother’s name.”

Fionnlagh nodded. “I know. That’s who she’s named after.”

Fin had to blink hard to disperse the moisture that gathered suddenly in his eyes. “She’d have loved that.”

A pale smile drifted across the boy’s face. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for?”

“Stepping in last night. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t showed up.”

“Running away’s not the answer, Fionnlagh.”

The sudden fire of indignation flared in the young man. “Then what is? We can’t go on like this.”

“No, you can’t. But you can’t throw your lives away either. You can only do the best for your child by making the best of yourselves.”

“And how do we do that?”

“For a start you need to make your peace with Donald.”

Fionnlagh gasped and turned his head away.

“He’s not the monster you think he is, Fionnlagh. Just a misguided man who thinks he’s doing the best for his daughter and his granddaughter.”

Fionnlagh started to protest, but Fin raised a hand to stop him.

“Talk to him, Fionnlagh. Tell him what it is you want to do with your life, and how you intend to do it. Show him that you mean to support Donna and Eilidh when you can, and marry his daughter when you’re able to offer her a future.”

“I don’t know what I want to do with my life!” Fionnlagh’s frustration caused his voice to crack.

“Hardly anyone does at your age. But you’re bright, Fionnlagh. You need to finish school, go to university. Donna, too, if that’s what she wants to do.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Stay here. The three of you.”

“The Reverend Murray’ll never accept that!”

“You don’t know what he’ll accept until you talk to him. I mean, think about it. You’ve got much more in common than you know. He only wants the best for Donna and Eilidh. And so do you. All you have to do is convince him of that.”

Fionnlagh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Easier said than done.”

The rubber teat slipped from Eilidh’s mouth, and she burbled her protest. Fionnlagh refocused his attention on her and slipped it back between tiny milky lips.

Fin recognized Donald’s car parked where his own should have been, on the curve of the road above the derelict croft and his wind-battered tent. Heavy low cloud scraped and grazed itself against the rise and fall of the land, pregnant with rain, but holding it still as if in realisation that the ground below was already beyond saturation.