‘Chess, the state of the world, whisky,’ she’d said in answer, ‘books, too. Just because Ron doesn’t read doesn’t mean that Cullen wasn’t always telling him stories.’ She’d paused then, looking over at the two empty armchairs beside the counter. ‘I think Ron enjoyed listening. Cullen listened to him, too. When they were younger, before it became too much for them both, they used to hike together a lot as well. I think they even went overseas together on a few trips. They had known each other a long time.’

There was a silence that stretched up to the mezzanine, in which Toby was unsure whether to ask the question that had crossed his mind. After a moment Rachel had pushed his purchase across the desk, looking up at him with another small smile.

‘I don’t know,’ she had said, as if he’d asked the question anyway. ‘However it was for them, I think they were happy, at least.’

In the crematorium, Toby put his hand on Ron’s arm. The old man covered it with his own.

The wake was held in the lighthouse, knots of people gathering to share the buffet Rachel had arranged and to talk in murmurs about the man they had seen laid to rest. Dora McCreedy also appeared, towing someone Toby had never seen before, a young man in a smart suit whose attention was all for the lighthouse itself.

‘Bloody vultures,’ Ron muttered, loud enough for them to hear, as they looked around the space.

McCreedy seemed unperturbed, though the pair left not long afterwards, heads bent together, two crows muttering over a carcass.

There was one more person who was unfamiliar to Toby but whom Rachel seemed to know. He’d attended the funeral and then followed them back to the bookshop. Once there, Rachel introduced him as Alan Crosswick, Cullen’s solicitor. He had come to pay his respects, he said, before asking Rachel if they could find a few minutes to talk privately. Toby saw the tightening of Rachel’s features, could read the anxiety she tried to disguise as the pair headed for the mezzanine.

‘Come on,’ Ron said, wielding a bottle of Macallan as the group tried not to eavesdrop on the murmured conversation going on overhead. ‘Let’s crack this open. It’s time we gave Cullen a proper toast.’

Toby accepted a dram and listened as the regulars took turns in telling stories about their memories of their friend.

‘I don’t think I would have stopped in Newton Dunbar at all if not for the lighthouse,’ Ezra said. He glanced at Edie as he added, ‘and I definitely don’t think I’d have stayed if not for Cullen. He had a way of making everyone feel welcome even if no one else wants you around.’

Rachel and the solicitor were gone for a long time – so long, in fact, that the numbers of mourners began to dwindle steadily, until it was only the regulars who remained. Crosswick didn’t stay long once they had descended the stairs. Rachel ushered him to the door and he took his leave of them as he passed. When Rachel returned, Toby thought she looked even paler than she had before.