It was early and I was gripped with anger for all the things that Greer might have done. Dressing quickly, I crept downstairs where Mrs Lenister’s tuneless humming and clattering drifted from the kitchens. Greer was in the library, dragging a hearth rug to beat out the dust. I stood and watched her. Her movements slowed. It was plain that she knew I was there but she took her time turning. Her expression did not change.

‘I saw you,’ I said. ‘Last night. Coming down from the Fiaclach. What were you doing there?’

If my statement concerned her, she did not show it. She watched me carelessly, resting a hip provocatively against a table.

‘You do not scare me, Greer. I know what you are. I know your wickedness.’ I had not realized the violence of my anger until it was in my voice. ‘You have done your worst and it hasn’t worked. I am not leaving. Do you understand? I know you have things to hide and I will find them,’ I hissed. ‘So do not make more of an enemy of me.’

She neither moved nor spoke but at the corner of her lips I saw the beginning of a smile. With a huff of exasperation, I left.

Mary and I spent the morning by the sea; away from the house my unease lessened. I felt better for chastising Greer. Fear was the enemy I must master. If there were ghosts, I must face them. They did not harm, I told myself; it was the fear itself that would hurt me if I let it.

The day was bright and cold and the sea glittered like a field of coins. In the rock pools we found urchins and gobies and Mary hardly paused to check Bobbity in her pocket.

With a sudden impulse to be rid of my unhappiness, I bent down, undid my boots and removed my stockings. I placed my foot on the wet sand, felt its grain on the arc of my foot and the tiny bite of shells. I laughed and Mary did the same. Soon, we were racing across the beach, boots swinging from our fingers, and up to the tideline where I gave a tiny scream as the first wave washed over my ankles.

We returned to the house happier after our game.

It was during tea that I pleaded a headache and went to lie down. Later the banging of the door and voices drifting up disturbed me and I went to the window where lanterns and lights marked the procession to church.

Miss Gillies was on the path with Mary and behind her the servants. Angus’s lantern swung and Greer’s face was caught as she turned, the angle of her head cast back at Iskar and towards my window. My hands clenched at my sides and I knew what I wanted to do. What I must do.