Ignoring his younger brother’s disapproving gaze, Alec sank into a chair beside the fire and let out a heavy sigh. Windlass, the large ginger cat who had adopted the brothers on their arrival, immediately jumped onto his lap, circled several times and settled with his big head on his paws. Alec let his fingers stray over the cat’s soft fur, finding its warmth and gentle purring soothing after his long, difficult day.

Rising from the table, Ian came to stand on the hearth, his back to the fire and his dark eyes scanning Alec’s face. ‘That bad?’

Ian had lost his hearing following a childhood illness but, as long as he could see the person he was talking to, he could read their lips. Those meeting him for the first time might only notice a slightly ponderous tone in his voice to indicate anything was amiss.

‘We nearly lost the boiler on Little John’s. One of the ropes snapped. If the others hadn’t held …’ Alec shuddered.

‘That’s why you’re the engineer and I’m not.’ Ian gestured at the stove where a pot sat exuding the smell of burned food. ‘Bridget left a stew if you’re hungry.’ A smile caught the corners of his mouth as he resumed his seat at the table. ‘Up to her usual standard.’

Alec pushed an indignant Windlass off his lap and stood. He lifted the lid on the pot and sighed. Even if he had come in earlier his dinner would not be anything else but burned. He thought of the delicious pasty he had shared in the crib room and his stomach growled. Despite his misgivings, he spooned some of the blackened mess onto a plate, broke off a hunk of bread and joined Ian at the table. He poked tentatively at something that may have been a carrot and wondered what beast the grey, leathery pieces of meat had come from. At best wallaby, at worst possum, but if a man was hungry enough he would eat anything, even Bridget O’Grady’s cooking.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked his brother.

Ian tapped the bible. It had been their mother’s and was almost falling apart with use across the generations. ‘Reverend Donald has asked me to give the homily on Sunday.’ His mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. ‘At least I’ll not be able to hear the congregation snoring when I send them to sleep.’

It surprised Alec that despite everything he and Ian had been through, Ian retained an unshakeable loyalty to the Presbyterian faith and was now an elder of the St Andrews congregation. Alec only attended church for weddings and funerals. His belief in God had largely died with Catriona and the baby.

He changed the subject. ‘How was your day?’