When I was far enough from the house, I screamed her name but the wind grabbed my words. On the sands I scanned the water’s edge, called her again and again as I stumbled along the strand. Then something made me lift my head to Stack Mor.

There in the circle was a flicker, and some instinct gave me certainty. Surely this was where Hettie had taken her to be thrown from the rocks to die as William had, and the belief gave direction to my feet. The valley was in shadow but I began to race up the path, my face and hair wet with rain, dress dragging. Twice, I slipped, and my lungs hurt with the pain of finding breath.

Near the graveyard I began to call again and glimpsed a figure on the Fiaclach but cloud passed over the moon and it was lost. What if I was too late? I screamed her name until my throat ached and when I reached the circle, it was empty.

I made for the rocks and the lantern caught a splinter of colour. It was the ladybird pin for Bobbity, bent out of shape. My search was desperate then. I was at the point of considering all lost when finally, I saw her white foot lying still amongst the grasses. The pale arch, slick with moisture. I was too late.

She lay on her front, gown and hair black with water. I pulled her into my arms, lifted her face to mine. Her skin was as pale as fish belly, her eyes closed. I put a hand to her chest and my cheek to her lips. Please, I begged. Not again. Not again.

The last time I had prayed it had been for Clara, but He had not saved her.

Now, I prayed once more. I prayed for forgiveness. I prayed for help and I prayed for mercy and most of all I begged Him that Mary would live.

I was aware of nothing but her face against mine and that unbearable yearning. Then, barely noticeable, came the soft feather of a breath. I shook her and rubbed her back, willing her to come awake. Finally, her lids opened in dazed shock. Relief thawed my senses to the burning cold. And with my arm half supporting her, we somehow reached the beach.

By the time we entered the house, every muscle ached and I was shivering violently. I got Mary to her room where I stripped her of wet clothes and wrapped her in blankets. Meanwhile, I refilled the bed warmer with the remaining embers and when that was done put her beneath the covers. I changed quickly and in the kitchen made a hot drink with whisky and sugar and brought up a bucket of peat. She was so still that I thought that she was dead, but she came half awake when I pulled her up to sip.