‘Nothing unbiased. Gilbert Geldard was a landowner and a gentleman. The authorities were always going to accept his version of events. David Gordon, one of the owners of Springfield, has put together a pamphlet about the story for his guests. You’re very welcome to look at The Shetland Times account of the tragedy, and I can let you have a copy of David’s paper. He’s a historian, so it’s well put together.’

He’d told her all she’d wanted to know, but still she lingered in his office. It was new and light, but the atmosphere reminded her of her shared office in the Sentiman. She felt safe here, and all the horror of their stay in Unst was left behind. Of course there was no ghost. The stories were like the ones she worked with – you could trace them back to an original source, made more elaborate over the years. Soon they would return to London, and she would go back to work and everything would be well. She stood and took her leave.

She found Marcus in the museum cafe drinking tea and eating home-made cake. He caught a glimpse of her across the room and waved and smiled as if he’d been away on one of his trips.

‘What did you make of Lerwick?’

‘It was fun,’ he said. ‘Everyone knows each other. Which is comforting, but a bit scary. You wouldn’t get away with anything here.’ He reached into his pocket and brought out a pair of hand-knitted Fair Isle gloves. ‘A present.’

She leaned across the table to kiss him.

Back in Unst they stopped twice on their way to Sletts. Once to look at the famous bus shelter, decorated like a piece of installation art, and once for Marcus to take photographs of seals hauled up onto the rocks. Perhaps because of the mist the animals seemed unafraid and allowed them to come very close before sliding into the still water. They groaned like people in pain and the noise echoed around the bay. They reminded Polly of fat, glistening slugs, grey and blotchy, and she wondered why people were so fond of them.

‘There’s a folk tale about the seals,’ she said. ‘Selkies. They steal the souls of women.’

‘Do you think one of them could be Eleanor? Perhaps that sly-looking one with the long eyelashes.’

She looked at Marcus, horrified. She’d never thought he could be so hard-hearted.

‘Sorry.’ He put his arm around her. ‘That was crass. But all this is so bizarre, isn’t it? I’m having problems taking it seriously. If I stay here much longer I think I might go mad. Having that couple of hours away made me realize how stressful it’s been. That house with the water on one side of it and the hill on the other. Ian so screwed up.’

She thought that she might be mad already. ‘Do you want to leave?’