I lead him out of the chapel and around to the gravestones I discovered. I point at the names and watch the surprise flash across his face. ‘They died,’ I tell him.

‘I can see that,’ he replies.

‘What do you think happened?’ I ask.

‘Maybe they died in the fire?’

‘That’s what I thought too,’ I say.

‘We should get back.’ Liam turns towards the woods. ‘It’s almost lunchtime. And I’m starving.’

We walk back through the trees towards the cottage, hand in hand, feet crunching over leaves that are already starting to turn orange and drift to the ground ahead of autumn’s arrival. I catch a sudden darting shadow in the corner of my eye.

‘What was that?’ I ask, stopping suddenly, tugging my hand from Liam’s and pointing to the bushes up ahead.

‘What?’ Liam asks, looking in the direction I’m pointing.

‘I thought I saw something,’ I say.

Liam glances around. ‘It was probably just a rabbit.’

I shake my head. ‘No, it was bigger than that.’

‘A pheasant then. I think there are some on the island. Or maybe a fox.’

We stop and listen for a few moments but all we can hear is the wind stirring the branches of the trees.

‘I’m just being silly,’ I laugh.

We keep on walking, but the whole time I can’t shake the sense that we’re being watched. I think about what the men in the pub said about the island being haunted. It definitely feels as if we’re being followed by something.

Chapter Seven

After lunch Liam picks up the history book from the coffee table and starts to read it. ‘This is interesting,’ he says after a time. ‘The monks lived on the island from the ninth century through until the 1500s, raising cattle and fishing in the loch to sustain themselves. The abbey was raided several times by Vikings looking to pillage and steal the monastery’s wealth.’

I imagine how terrifying that must have been for the monks, with nowhere to flee to. Did they just sit and pray and accept their fate? Or did they try to hide as the Vikings attacked? Did any of them try to fight back?

‘Listen to this,’ Liam goes on, eagerly. ‘“The monks were said to have buried the monastery’s treasure on the island to hide it. This myth has endured since the fifteenth century.”’

I glance at him. I know he’s thinking about searching for it, but he doesn’t say as much; he just keeps turning the pages of the book.