The weather cleared and Miss Gillies told us that she would not be taking lessons that day as she had island business to conduct and so, after lunch, I suggested a walk in the garden. We explored the orchard and collected windfalls in a basket to take back to Mrs Lenister.

Although peat smoke from the island chimneys was comforting on the air, my consciousness was continually drawn back to Iskar where I searched its blank-faced windows and had some odd sense that I was watched. Turning to Mary, I saw that she too had fallen still and was looking up at the house. Although her expression was masked, something moved in her eye and I looked again, drawn by Hettie’s room and the flat reflection of its panes. As we stood, a whistling sounded on the air and Mary clutched the doll tighter in her fingers, her lips paling. I opened my mouth to ask her if she had seen something or if she had heard it too and remembered that she would not speak, would not be able to explain even if she could. And so we continued, but only half absorbed in our pursuit as the wind rushed and pulled at the sea out on the bay.

When it was three by the clock we returned and found Mrs Argylle in conversation with Miss Gillies. They looked up as we entered and Mrs Argylle rose, giving me a warm smile.

‘How are you, Miss Swansome, and you, Mary?’

Mary curtsied and took a seat a little way away and fiddled with the ribbons in Bobbity’s tangle of hair.

‘Mrs Argylle used to come once a week to give Mary and William lessons in French,’ Miss Gillies said. She glanced at Mary sharply. ‘Perhaps in time it can be resumed.’ Her tone was severe and a spasm of anguish passed over Mary’s features.

‘I like to hope so,’ Mrs Argylle said and gave Mary a look of compassion. ‘Miss Swansome, I haven’t forgotten my invitation. Perhaps if it’s convenient you would like to walk back with me in a while? I’m sure Miss Gillies can spare you from Mary for an hour?’

Miss Gillies agreed and said that Mary could help with sorting out some threads and beads in her workbox, and soon I was collecting my coat and following Mrs Argylle back out into the cold. We spoke little on the way to the church as the words were blown from our mouths almost as soon as they were uttered, but it did not take long to reach the chapel, where their cottage sat at the rear.

The house was small but homely, smelling of something newly baked. A small dog that sat by the fire lifted its tail, gave a deep sigh and went promptly back to sleep.

A maid brought us tea and cake. ‘So tell me, Miss Swansome, how do you find Skelthsea so far?’