The church was full of shadow. Hettie’s plain coffin stood at the front, catching the spill of light. There were so few of us that we filled only two pews. The seat creaked behind me and there was Ailsa, who regarded me with an expression I could not read. Nobody spoke until Robert Argylle climbed to the lectern and began his prayer. There were not enough voices to give it body and the words sounded as thin as an afterthought. There was no hymn, and soon, six men arrived in heavy coats and the coffin was carried out of the doors and on to the ridge.

Unlike tradition on the mainland, women were allowed to watch the interment and we followed behind. The crofters had not moved from their houses but remained huddled to observe our sombre journey.

The smell of wet earth was in the air and my eyes slid to the dark cavity that had been prepared. Argylle led another prayer and then Hettie’s coffin was lowered into its waiting place. A handful of dirt was thrown and it was over almost as quickly as it had started. We left to the sound of spades and the shovelling of earth rattling on to the lid of the box.

Ailsa stood beside me. ‘Doesn’t it make you wonder what purpose the binding spell was woven for?’

I did not answer. I could not answer. To believe that such spells could work was too terrifying to comprehend, but the memory of what I had so recently found beneath Mary’s pillow was heavy on my thoughts.

‘This is a terrible business.’ Bridget had a spot of pink on her cheeks. ‘It must be uncomfortable for you, Elspeth. Hettie was your predecessor after all. I can see how this has hit you.’ She put a hand to my arm and squeezed gently. ‘Come visit as soon as you are able. It has been too long since you last came and I can see you are anxious.’

I smiled but my eyes went to the Fiaclach where mist coiled around the stones. A falcon circled above and screeched into the wind, bringing sweat to my skin. The thickened sound of soil on soil told us that the last sods were being laid. The men bent over their work, coats lifting in the wind, and Argylle stood hunched at the graveside, his face cut with sadness.

We said goodbye to each other in hushed tones. Miss Gillies pulled at her gloves and we began the descent to Iskar. I longed for night, for the privacy of my room, but the clock ate away at the time with aching slowness. When it finally struck nine, I climbed the stairs to the corridor and even the shadows and the presence of Hettie’s empty chamber above me did not cause my steps to falter. I shut the door behind me and sank on to the chair by the fire.