‘What are you saying?’ Her husband Ian’s voice was teasing, but not unkind. ‘You don’t think you saw a ghost?’

Polly didn’t speak. She was remembering the girl she’d seen dancing on the sand.

‘I’m not sure,’ Eleanor said. ‘I could easily believe in ghosts in a place like this. All this history so close to the surface. Some of the research I’ve been doing for Bright Star has been compelling. Really, I think a lot of the people I’ve talked to believed they’ve had a supernatural encounter.’

‘I bet they were all weirdos.’

‘No! Ordinary people who’d had extraordinary experiences.’

‘You’re on holiday now,’ Ian said. ‘You don’t need to think about work, or the company or the new commission. You’ll make yourself ill again. Just relax and let it go.’ The others laughed uneasily, hoping that he’d dealt with the awkwardness and they could enjoy the evening once more.

It occurred to Polly that Ian had only agreed to come to Shetland because she and Marcus would be there. He couldn’t quite face his wife on his own, even though her depression seemed to have lifted a little in the last couple of months. After the miscarriage he’d believed that she was unravelling, that he was losing her. Polly didn’t know if he’d even wanted a baby. Perhaps he just wanted Eleanor back the way she was when they’d first met. Stylish and uncomplicated, full of pranks and larks. Fun.

Eleanor flushed. She’d been drinking since early evening. She worked in television and usually she could hold her booze, but tonight even she seemed a little drunk. ‘Perhaps you think I’m going mad again, that I should be back in the loony bin.’ She stared out at the water. ‘Or perhaps you believe I’m inventing things. To get attention.’

There was another silence. For a moment Polly was tempted to speak, to say that she’d seen a child dressed in white dancing on the beach too, but still she stayed silent. A sort of betrayal.

‘Only when you claim to have seen spirits from the other side.’ Ian was dismissive. He was a sound engineer. A bit of a nerd. He clearly thought the whole conversation was ridiculous and he was feeling awkward, way out of his comfort zone.

It was as dark now as it would get and a mist was rising from the sea to cover the remaining light. Polly shivered. She was wearing a padded jacket, but it was cold. ‘We should go in,’ she said. ‘I’m ready for bed.’

‘You believe me, don’t you, Pol?’ Eleanor had been a beauty when she was a student, in a grown-up, voluptuous way that had made Polly look like a grey, malnourished child. Ian leaned forward and lit a fat white candle on the table. The light flickered and Polly saw lines under her friend’s eyes. Stress and a kind of desperation. She was wearing a theatrical black evening cloak over her bridesmaid’s dress. ‘There was a little girl just outside the house here when I woke up from my sleep this afternoon. When you were all out walking. And then she disappeared. She just seemed to walk into the sea.’