“There was no way we could leave her there. So we went with a bag one night, packed up her stuff and took her back to our place. I paid for a private nurse and she stayed with us for six months.” He took another mouthful of beer, lost in the memory. “I got to know how to deal with her. To ignore the contradictions and never argue. To understand that it was frustration that caused her anger, and forgetfulness that made her cussed.” He shook his head. “Her short-term memory was almost non-existent. But she could remember things from childhood with pin-sharp clarity, and we would spend hours talking about the past. I liked Mona’s mum.”

Marsaili was lost in silent thought for a while. Then, “Why did you and Mona split up?” And no sooner had she asked it, than she qualified her question. In case, perhaps, it was too direct. “Was it only because of the accident?”

Fin shook his head. “That was the breaking point . . . after years of living a comfortable lie. If it hadn’t been for Robbie we’d probably have gone our separate ways a long time ago. We were friends, and I can’t say I was unhappy, but I never really loved her.”

“Why did you marry her, then?”

He met her eye and thought about it, forcing himself to confront the truth, perhaps for the very first time. “Probably because you married Artair.”

She returned his gaze, and in the few feet that separated them lay all the wasted years they had let slip by. She turned back again to her pot, unable to face the thought. “You can’t blame me for that. You were the one who drove me away.”

The outside door flew open, and the wind and the rain blew in briefly with Fionnlagh. He shut it quickly behind him and stood pink-faced and dripping, his anorak soaked, his wellies caked with mud. He seemed surprised to see Fin sitting at the table.

“Get those things off you,” Marsaili said, “and sit in. We’re almost ready to eat.”

The boy kicked off his boots and hung up his waterproofs, and brought a bottle of beer from the fridge to the table. “So what happened with Grampa?”

Marsaili swept back the hair from her face and served up three plates of chilli con carne scooped on to beds of rice. “Your gran won’t have him at home any more. So he’s in the care home at Dun Eisdean until I can figure out what to do about him.”

Fionnlagh shovelled food into his mouth. “Why didn’t you bring him here?”

Marsaili’s eyes darted towards Fin and then away again, and he caught the guilt in them. He said, “Because he needs professional care now, Fionnlagh. Physically and mentally.”