The biggest problem in trying to identify who Donald John and Donald Peter Gillies actually were, was that no one had any idea where they came from. They would have arrived, anonymous passengers off the ferry at Lochboisdale, with cards around their necks and their past erased. And now, with Peter dead and his brother John lost in a fog of dementia, who was there to remember? Who was there to testify as to who they had really been? Those boys were lost for ever, and the likelihood was that neither he, nor the police, would ever know who had killed Peter, or why.

The lights of Ness sparkled all across the headland in the gloom, like a reflection of the stars emerging in the clear, settled sky above. The wind that had buffeted his car on the unprotected drive up through the Uists had died to an unnatural stillness. In his rearview mirror he could still see the clouds brooding in their habitual gathering place around the peaks of Harris, and away to the west on an ocean like glass, the reflected last light of the day was fading into night.

There were three cars parked on the gravel above Marsaili’s bungalow. Fionnlagh’s Mini, Marsaili’s old Astra and Donald Murray’s SUV.

Donald and Marsaili were sitting together at the kitchen table when Fin knocked and walked in. For a moment he felt a strangely unpleasant pang of jealousy. After all, it had been Donald Murray who had taken Marsaili’s virginity all those years before. But that had been in another life, when they had all been very different people.

Donald nodded. “Fin.”

Marsaili said quickly, almost as if she wanted Fin to know straight away that there was no cause for jealousy, “Donald came with a proposition about Fionnlagh and Donna.”

Fin turned to Donald. “Has Fionnlagh been to see you?”

“He came this morning.”

“And?”

Donald’s smile was wry, and laden with history. “He’s his father’s son.” Fin couldn’t resist a smile.

Marsaili said, “They’ve moved in here permanently, the two of them. And the baby. They’re upstairs.” She flicked an uncertain glance Donald’s way. “Donald has suggested that he and I share the cost and responsibility of the baby to let Fionnlagh and Donna finish their studies. Even if it means one, or both of them, leaving the island to go to university. I mean, we all know how important it is not to throw away the opportunities life offers when you are young. You spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

There was more than just a hint of bitterness in her voice. And Fin wondered if there was recrimination in it, too.

“Sounds like a plan.”