Villagers were leaving their cottages and proceeding in a wavy line of dark coats, headscarves and lamps. They waited politely for Miss Gillies to reach the street and then nodded and curtsied and followed behind. There was friendly chattering, along with raised caps and smiles. It was clear that Miss Gillies was held apart from the rest of the community. As we neared our destination, darkness had fallen and the circle of the moon showed itself in the night sky.

The Gillies pews were at the front of the chapel and I followed the others, taking my place next to Mary. The murmuring gradually ceased and the silence was broken only with the occasional cough and the sound of benches creaking under adjustment. Somewhere behind me a baby mewled. Candles threw flickering shapes on to the whitewashed walls and a bat, caught in a high corner, lifted a wing and huddled down again like a chrysalis.

We knelt. Miss Gillies leaned forward for a long time, her head bent over her clasped hands, the nape of her neck peeking from the collar of her coat. Mary sat and stared ahead until Miss Gillies, with a tug on her sleeve, bade her to follow her example. I had not prayed since the day I returned home from visiting the Edinburgh family who wished me to tutor their daughters. I could still smell the smoke and remembered how, by the clenching of my heart, I had known that Clara had been caught in the flames.

When I rose from the floor, cold had already pierced my skin and my breath was white on the air. Candles shivered in the draught that passed down the aisle. The minister went quickly through a reading and then there was one hymn, complemented by the ringing of a tinny piano.

Time and temperature deterred a longer sitting and the service was over before it struck the half-hour. As we left, voices rose, relieved to have finished their evening worship and to return to fires, hot drinks and supper. The body of people moved slowly towards the door, pausing for conversation.

As I stood in line, I felt a gaze upon me. A tallish woman was watching me closely. We proceeded up the aisle until we came to her pew and were standing but inches apart. I gave her a smile which she did not return, but she continued to study me and there was something purposeful in her scrutiny, something beyond mere curiosity. It was only as I reached the exit that it came to me – there had been an expression of pity in her gaze.

Our party stopped to be greeted by the minister and Miss Gillies introduced him as Robert Argylle; next to him stood a woman I recognized from the boat.